


Darling, Don't Be So Shy

by murdergatsby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bottom Hannibal, Cannibalism, Character Death, Demon Hannibal, Demonic Possession, Ghost Dogs, Implied/Referenced Loss of a Child, Implied/Referenced Near Death Experience, Implied/Referenced Sickness During Pregnancy, M/M, Mention of Animal Death, Murder, Paranormal Investigators, Past Abuse, Psychic Abilities, SPOILER: character death is not Will or Hannibal, Sexual Guilt, Will Graham Makes Bad Life Choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:23:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/pseuds/murdergatsby
Summary: Will is a paranormal investigator with a special gift. Hannibal is a demon gifted with boredom. Their meeting was supposed to lead to a simple exorcism, but Will has a nasty habit of getting attached.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, just some quick things:
> 
> \- This fic is (nearly) finished, and I will be posting a new chapter every Saturday and Sunday of this October (so that means, chapter two will be up tomorrow!)
> 
> \- I may add more tags as update if I think something previously untagged needs to be, but for the most part all the tags you see present at this time are for the entire work. There are going to be a lot of dark topics brought up (I mean, we are talking human/demon romance here) and I tried to tag as accurately as possible. If you have any questions/concerns about something happening, feel free to ask about it! I don't mind explaining anything.
> 
> \- The title is taken from the song "Mirrors" by PVRIS. It didn't directly inspire this fic, but I've been listening to it while I've been writing. It's a very good song and fits the ~mood of this story, if nothing else.
> 
> I also want to give a special thanks to [sandraque](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sandraque/) for giving me the idea of Hannibal gallivanting around as a pseudo-poltergeist, and generally kick-starting me into writing this. Along with all the lovely people on twitter who continuously support me through my hectic writing processes.
> 
> I'm really proud of how this story if turning out, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. :)
> 
>  **Updated Nov. 3, 2017:** HELLO. I'm writing this, having just finished posting the last two chapters of this story. That was not the _intended_ date of completion I had in mind for this piece. I wanted to have it done when I said I would have, and had completed all but the final 4 chapters at the time of posting this first one. Those final 4 took ages to complete, having been delayed by illness, then frustration, then illness, then politics... hasn't been a great year, I'm actually sick again as I write this, but the point is: It's done. A LOT of these notes beginning each chapter are nothing by lies and slanderous chaos and, rather than going through and correcting each and every set of notes, I've decided to just type this little chunk up here. Explaining it all. So, there you have it. I hope you enjoy what I've written for you all, anyway  <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will deals with a family's unrelenting... puppy.

The kitchen felt barren and exposed- as if the home had been abandon years prior to Will’s entry, and stripped of all its inner-workings by copper thieves. Blue-white light filtered through the single four panel window providing the only light in the entire space, while darkness grew in the corners like mold. It pulsed as if the shadows were catching their breath.

After only moments of straining through the dark, two white-backed lights spit through the black and blinked down at him. The spirit they belonged to growled and scratched their nails against the wood ceiling where it clung. It was uninterested in Will’s acquaintance.

“Hello.” Will cooed. The new self-made sound took on an echo that rang in his ears at a near deafening velocity. He was used to this though- he knew it would subside if he just relaxed through it. All this meant was that the spirit was hostile; It wanted to scare him but it didn’t know how. Loud sounds and scuttling on the ceiling was all it could manage to do to prove its power- power it didn’t really have. It was much more fearful of him, than he was of it.

Will walked closer to it, until he stood directly below it.

“Hey there.” He called again. He tried to hide the twitch of his eye as the sound doubled. Confidence was the ideal he wanted to exude and, as he expected, the sound rolled to a dull tremble before disappearing completely.  He took a leveling breath and smiled.

“That’s right, you’re okay.”

He offered a hand up at the blinking lights, and watched them recede back further into the wall. He brought his hand back to himself and slowly dropped into a crouch instead.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to say hi.” He offered, tilting his head and smiling wider. “Can you please come down for me?”

As if it were deep in thought, the bright spots remained fixed on him for a long moment. Will didn’t look away. Then, like a spider, the creature descended down the wall and rushed in his direction. Will waddled back on his heels, stepping without standing back upright, until he was directly in the beam of light from the window.

“C’mon.” He beckoned, remaining unafraid. He shook his hand as if he were offering food. “Let me see you.”

As it stepped into the light, the darkness did not leave its form; it looked as if it had been oil-logged. It had four short legs and was coated in soft, cone-like prickles that, upon touching them, reacted to Will’s finger tips similarly to a sea anemone; each tendril had same sticky-sting as it clung to him. The moment Will added real pressure to his touch, the creature bowed into him and sighed. It rubbed its face on his knees and eventually hopped up to put its front legs up in his lap.

Will laughed and continued to pet at it. He ruffled its inky coat and attempted to pull it away, to see what resided underneath. He let it become more and more comfortable with his embrace and it seemed thankful for the attention- nearly overwhelmed by it.

“Someone left you here, huh? You’ve been alone a long time.” Will observed. He looked around and noted that the room had lost its chill, and its pitch darkness. The creature groaned impatiently for more attention, and he smiled down at it.

Then, he opened his eyes.

\--

It was mid-morning back in the real world. The kitchen smelled of microwaved coffee and bacon grease chilling in a soapy sink. The walls were painted a creamy yellow that mimicked the warmth of early morning.

He felt the presence of the three other people in the room with him, but he wasn’t ready for them. If he wasn’t so sure they had noticed his reentry to the present, he would have dipped right back into the in-between- Pet the creature more, stay there until they left. _Stay there forever._

“So?” The harsh, impatient man behind him snapped.

“It’s a dog.” Will said, trying his best to hide his distaste for the client.

“A _dog?_ ”

Will winced. He knew it was too simple of an explanation to give, but he didn’t have the energy to fake it with this man. He had already been so tense and draining. Every event he had tried to explain to Will had been verbally blown out of proportion, and embellished beyond believability- even by Will’s standards about what he could find believable.

“Yeah.” Will stated, still dry. “A dog.”

The man paused and Will turned to face him. He had his arm around his wife’s shoulder, while Will’s working-partner, Jack, existed behind them.

There was a certain plead in Jack’s eyes that Will had grown to know well. He was shouting “Be nice. Be normal.” without needing to move his lips. Will tried not to look at him.

“Is it a big dog?” The woman asked. She sounded truly curious. When her husband spoke, it was as if he was blaming Will himself for this ‘invasion’ to his home. The way she spoke gave Will some hope for the situation. It opened him to the idea of elaborating.

“No.” Will said, his lips twitching into a half-hearted smile. “It’s like… a Jack Russel mix, maybe.” He explained. He thought back to what he had seen while he was in there, addressing the size and feel of the creature beneath the black. “Maybe a Chiweenie.”

“A _Chiweenie_?” The man said, shouting and making Will flinch. “It shoved my wife down the stairs!”

Clearing his throat as a form of self-defence, Will replied “She probably just tripped over him.”

Jack’s eyes grew wider as he shook his head with dissatisfaction.

Will grumbled internally. “He’s more scared than anything else, and now he’s…calm, again.”

“Well.” The man said. “That should make it easier for you to remove him, right?”

Will opened his mouth to argue. _You’ve just got to work on some trust with him._ He thought to say. _It’s his house as much as it’s yours._ He continued. Another glace at Jack, however, told him it would be better to just nod and agree. He detested feeling this helpless.

**\--**

Jack’s car always made a tight rattling sound when they drove, as if someone were shaking a whisk within the linings of the door. He had to keep the glove box locked or it would bounce open as they drove over bumps in the road, and the visor of the sunroof was stuck back. There was always a chill coming through the exposed glass and when it rained, like it was that very morning, water always found a way to drop down through some crack in the lining, crowning Will on the scalp with a wet _blat._

Will always wanted to complain about these things vocally, but he couldn’t. Because of his abilities, driving had proven to be too much of a risk on his life and the innocent bystanders who were cursed with witnessing him try and exist. Most of the time he could choose when he wanted to be vulnerable to his visions but, every once in a while, a woman would step out in front of his car as she had done 500 times before that moment, and he would swerve to avoid her.

One only gets so many “I totaled my car because a ghost was stuck in their death loop” passes before the governments deems you mentally unfit to drive. And, whether they saw Will’s ability for what it actually was or a neurological disorder, it didn’t matter. Will agreed that it was safer this way, so he didn’t drive anymore.

Jack was the only person he had to drive him around, whether it was for business or pleasure, and complaining about the state of the car would be impolite. It worked for Jack, so Will made it work for him.

“You’ve got to stop doing that.” Jack said. It was sudden in Will’s ears, though it shouldn’t have been. Jack had been glaring at him since they pulled away from the house.

“What?” Will replied. He furrowed his brows and shot back the same disapproving glare that Jack was serving him.

Will knew _what._

Jack and Will had been working together now for three years. Jack had been working as a paranormal investigator for several years before crossing his path, and had only met him after being called into to inspect a haunt in Will’s old apartment building.

Will’s neighbor had reported phantom writing on his mirrors that had turned into hellish whispering down the back of his neck by the end of the weak. Jack was well versed in many forms of “cleaning house” as they called it, but this spirit was particularly stubborn about staying put.

Mainly because it was the soul of an elderly woman who had lived in the apartment most of her adult life, and Jack was treating her like an unintelligent energy stain.

 _“You can’t just…sage out an entity with history.”_ Had been the first thing Will had ever said to Jack. To which, Jack replied with the friendliest _“Well, what do you know?”_ Will had ever heard.  

So, Will showed Jack what he knew and what he could do. They had been working together ever since.

“Arguing with the client.” Jack grumbled, back in the present day. He turned his attention back to the road, shaking his head from side to side to further his negative body language. “We are there to make their _lives_ easier. The so-called feelings of the ghost? Not our problem.”

Will took a long and deep breath. He clicked his back molars together, tensing and un-tensing his jaw. He already had his argument already prepared; this wasn’t the first time he’d had this conversation with Jack, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. They never ended with an agreement on the matter.

“Most of the time, they’re just scared and lonely. They don’t have anyone and _they_ don’t understand.” He defended. He looked over his shoulder with an absent mind, and Jack watched him.

“…Is the dog in the car, Will?” Jack asked, with strong accusation. He looked in the backseat, to the same spot Will was isolating, and squinted as if it would help him better to see.

Directly where he was looking sat a heavy-set Jack Russel mix, just as Will had guessed. All the black oil from before had been replaced with species appropriate white fur. He was scattered with dark freckles and his ears folded into triangles. He was absolutely adorable, in Will’s opinion.

This wasn’t the first time Will had done this with a spirit. He had two other dogs-of-the-past waiting for him at home that he had snatched up while working with Jack. The process of separating a spirit from the house they were in wasn’t _always_ the easiest thing, but sometimes with a promise of somewhere else to go the spirit will do all the hard work.

Will liked to offer that when he could, even if it was only to the furrier of entities. He didn’t like to think what happened to those he forced way and didn’t have a new home set up for them. They always screamed so much when they left.

Jack was passionate for the paranormal and brilliant in his own ways, but he was so incredibly closed off to the world of spirits. Will understood that he had an insight that was rare, but he swore that Jack could actually _die_ and still not understand them…much less see the dog smiling at him.

“Where are you taking me now?” Will said, to avoid answering the question directly.

That morning when Jack had picked him up from his apartment he had very briefly mentioned there being two jobs that day. He did it in a way that he thought Will may not notice, listing it out among their other daily to-do’s. Will always noticed when he did this, but chose to only actually make a fuss when it brought hindrance to his schedule. Which, today, it did not.

This question brought a smile to Jack’s lips, and brought his attention back up to the road. “Poltergeist.” He said. There was a dance to his voice that traveled up into his eyes.

Will did not reflect the excitement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will goes to the Verger-Bloom residence to assist them with an apparent poltergeist problem. Will has his doubts that it isn't something deeper.

Alana Bloom and Margot Verger looked stunning for two women who had clearly not gathered any sleep with in the last 24 hours of their life. It was late afternoon when Jack and Will arrived, and Alana still walked with the same pep one would observe in someone who had just started their day. Her make-up was flawless, and bold. Dark wisps of eyeliner and a fire-engine red lipstick made her look like a powerhouse. Will didn’t doubt that she was one.

Margot was a bit more withdrawn, but still just as visually powerful. She had a cool vibe that made her intimidating- walking the line of scary- even as she exposed her nerves with uncomfortable smiles and a lack of speaking.

The home they shared with their (currently absent) son, Morgan, was very “old money.” Their property was surrounded by a heavy black metal fence, with an automatic gate that could be accessed from the inside of their home. The outer walls of the home themselves were white-washed brick, with black window panes and roof to keep up the theme.

The inside of the home was largely black and white as well, with silver and gold as an accent color running through each room Will was allowed to see, as Alana brought them into the kitchen. Will vocally noted that it was larger than his entire home.

There was a large breakfast bar in the center of it, which Margot claimed a seat at the moment she was able. Alana lead Jack into a conversation about traffic and the weather, while Will searched the room for any possible unnoticed activity.

For a poltergeist, the house was awfully silent.

“Now, I in no way mean to rush this process…” Jack said, trying to broach the matter at hand as casually as possible. “Why don’t you tell me and my partner what all has been going on?”

Jack took a seat beside Margot, unprompted, when he was done speaking. She turned away from him and drummed her fingers on the side of the coffee mug she now clutched.

Alana brought her eyes to meet Margot’s, searching for an unspoken approval before making her own claim on the question.

“I’ve noticed… _stuff_ since Morgan was born.” Alana said. “It started with just weird smells. I kept smelling meat roasting in the kitchen.”

“We’re vegetarian.” Margot interrupted. Her voice came out startled and drew everyone in the rooms attention to her. She looked as if she wanted to shrivel away at all the new consideration, but her body defied her. He sat upright and tossed her loosely waved hair over her shoulders. “At the time, we were eating vegetarian. And it would be in the early hours before anyone had been given the chance to cook.”

_She doesn’t seem like someone often fussed by anxiety._ Will thought. _Something deeper is going on with her._

“It was really out of place and strong enough that it wasn’t _easy_ to ignore.” Alana finished for her. “But I was on some medications at the time and… I mean I had just had a baby. I really didn’t think anything of it.”

“And now?” Jack pushed.

“And now… Things just keep going missing. Unimportant things, like bottles of nail polish, will wind up in the microwave or on top of the refrigerator.” Alana explained. She gestured to the refrigerator as she spoke, and Will saw her hone in on something. He followed her gaze to see a small spoon balanced on the edge of the door.

He knew it hadn’t been there before, but he hadn’t seen or felt anything sweep in while they were talking.

“I found a shoe I’d been missing for weeks in the trunk of my car yesterday.” Margot added. She got up from her seat and went to collect the spoon, as if it were no big deal. She had adjusted well to the life of living alongside a spirit, cleaning up after it like it was a puppy or small child. So, the fear she presented wasn’t from that.

“Yeah. All just…annoying stuff like that.”

Margot handed Alana the spoon, and Alana took a moment to rub her forearm as a form of comfort. The room lulled in to a tense silence that made Will feel like he was choking.

“Alright… If it’s just annoying stuff, why the call?” Jack said. His voice cut through whatever was blocked Will’s throat and allowed him to sigh deeply.

“The activity is just getting a little more intense. Quickly.” Alana explained. She seemed to have more to say, but it was stuck bubbling under her tongue.

“Has he hurt your son yet?” Will blurted. He assumed that’s what it had to be; what was causing Margot’s nerves and what was making it so hard to talk about. No parent ever liked to admit that they had let something bad happen to their child, especially when it was from something that they could have prevented.

He thought the push would help, maybe let her explain, but when the color drained from her face Will knew he had spoken out of turn.

“No.” Alana stammered. “Yet? Why do you say yet?”

Jack shot Will a wide eyed, aggressive look, and Will gulped.

“Poltergeists...Typically target children. Violently.” Will explained. He tried to take on a roll of confidence, but couldn’t bring himself to look Alana in the eye after what he had just said. He could feel how anxious he had just made her.

“Have you been noticing any scratches on him?” He asked. “Any fights at school that maybe _didn’t_ actually happen at school? It will look like any average kind of abuse.”

Alana let her focus drift to a spot on the floor. “Well, Morgan is only three.” She excused. It was clear she was hurriedly trying to remember anything she might have overlooked. “He gets scuffed up at the daycare sometimes but,” She brought her eyes up to Will and he could see that she was suddenly on the edge of crying. “Nothing all that notable.”

Will furrowed his brow. _Three is very young._

Most poltergeist activity, _real_ poltergeist activity, was connected to teenagers reaching the height of puberty. All the natural hostilities and disobedience that crept in with the anxieties of approaching adulthood manifested into an orb of rage. Pranksters with too much power is all they were.

Will looked at Jack, wondering if he had known this detail before sending them both here. His expression hadn’t changed all that much.

“Then what did set this off?” Jack asked, destroying the lull, again. He was clearly taking extra precautions to not look at Will. “What was the pushing point?”

After a moment of more hurried though, Alana sighed. “It took all of our dishes.” She said. “And broke them.”

Will’s brow furrowed deeper. “Is that _all_?” He asked. People were normally much more stubborn about getting help with this kind of thing. They would wait for their house to be swallowed up by the very jaws of hell itself before asking for help.

_This is turning into a very untypical case._

“I’ll show you.” Alana said, with another sigh.

Jack started to stand, but Will waved him off and pushed passed him. Jack understood that that meant he wanted to go look alone. Alana made a similar motion in regards to Margot, who took a new seat away from Jack and resumed non-rhythmically drumming at her coffee mug.

Alana lead Will from the kitchen and up a spiral staircase, and Will knew what room they were head to before Alana brought attention to it. He could feel it. The wood of the closed door heaved with a life that he knew Alana couldn’t see, and a peppered static hum and suddenly been brought to his atmosphere. Whatever was teasing this family was waiting for them in that room.

Alana opened the door and the spiritual warning signs ceased. The room was empty, save for a single hanger in a door-less closet. It took Will a moment to see what Alana was showing him.

“This was Morgan’s playroom, but he isn’t allowed in here anymore.” She said, gesturing to the walls.

What Will’s eyes had previously registered as finely striped wallpaper now revealed itself to be fine shards of porcelain and ceramic, lining the wall sharp side up. They were like rows of teeth. The exact opposite of a padded cell.

Will felt himself chuckle.

“Is this…funny?” Alana asked, half defensive and half concerned.

“No. No it’s…” Will replied, shaking his head with unspoken apologies. He reached into the room and touched the predatory wall, feeling that every jagged piece was carefully inserted into the wall deep enough that extracting them without assistance from the spirit themselves would likely call for removal of the wall. There was no way this was the work of a poltergeist.

“It’s bored.”

_What are you doing, Will?_ He heard inside his head, a form of preemptively scolding himself for personifying this entity. Again.

He looked back at Alana to see that she was knotting her eyebrows together in complete bewilderment. He laughed again.

“If it’s doing this, and not directly going after your son…This is just boredom. And boredom is much better than hostility.” He explained. He hoped that would but her at some ease. “I think this is the room I’ll set up in.”

Alana’s expression relaxed at that, finding a scrap of peace in the actual admittance of Will being able to help.

“Oh! Okay.” She said, a real smile crawling on her lips for the first time since Will had met her. “Do you…do you need anything?”

Will shook his head. “Ah, no. I’ll be fine.” He said. “Just, go back downstairs and talk with Jack. He’ll…probably pounce on your wife if you leave her alone for too long. She acting like she has something to hide.”

“She thinks she caused this.”

“Ah.” Will sighed. That had been another theory he had.

Alana started to turn to leave, but stopped to ask “Is that possible?”

Will hunched up his shoulders. “That she caused this?” He repeated. “Um…no. Not if it’s a poltergeist.” _Which, it isn’t._

“Okay.” Alana replied, sounding even more so relieved. She turned again to leave, and was this time stopped by Will.

“You did the right thing calling us.” He said, trying his best at eye contact and a smile. “I’m very good at this. Your son is safe.”

Alana’s smile grew. She nodded her head and thanked him before heading back downstairs. Will waited until he could hear her and Jack speaking in the kitchen before fully entering the room and shutting the door.

\--

Will often referred to his process as The Drop, because that was how it felt. He closed his eyes and imagined the room in his head. Then, it was as if the floor slipped out from beneath him and he started to descend into the next world. It often felt like he was wrapped in silk, and it knew to open his eyes when the feeling was no longer there.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in the same room he started in. Only, there were always slight differences in the atmosphere. Sometimes the paint on the walls would change, sometimes the time of day or how the room smelled…

In this specific room, the only change was the door; what he had just closed now hung open. He walked towards it with the intent to leave, when he heard the soft sound of footsteps on carpet behind him. His hair pricked up on the back of his neck as he turned, carefully, to see the source of the sound.

A handsome man leaned against the wall, wearing a casual, deep red sweater. He wore dark lounge pants with them, as if he had just risen from bed, and he was barefoot.

He was comfortable. He was calm.

_Definitely not a poltergeist._

“Hello.” He said. A heavy accent curled around his words and rooted deep into Will’s chest.

Will stood motionless by the door. This wasn’t something he was expecting, and was something he always dreaded. He was… intelligent. Unafraid. _Incredibly_ human.

“Don’t be so shy.” The entity continued. It took a step away from the wall, to which Will responded by taking his own step back.

“Hello.” Will said with a weaker voice than he intended.

_Distance yourself._ He reminded. Jack’s words rolled about in his mind: _“We are there to make their live easier. The so-called feelings of the ghost? Not our problem.”_

“May I ask why you are here?” Will asked, trying his very best to sound cold and scripted.

The man watched him, sable colored eyes flicking up and down his form like a lit flame. “May I ask your name, first?” He asked. Even his voice lacked the harsh edge or lingering resonance that normal spirits contained.

He was so real. So very vibrant. _Why, Jack?_

Will felt himself physically recoil again, and forced himself to readjust.

“How did you get here?” Will asked, hoping that his complete disregard of the entity’s questions would turn him off from asking more. _Maybe he will think I don’t understand._

“I’m only trying to be polite.” He responded. A smile crawled across his lips that brought a light to his face, one that made Will smile too.

Again, Will fought through. The family had already made it clear to him that this spirit had to go, and that was likely a great deal his fault. Guilt was taking a toll on him just as much as this entity’s charm was.

“Are you lost here?”

The entity sighed to himself, deeply. “Are you only going to speak to me, if I answer your questions?” He asked.

Will felt his tone soften against the question. “Do you mean this family harm?” He asked, hoping desperately this time that he would receive and answer.

“No.” The entity said. He leaned back up against the wall. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the glass. “I am here because, much like you, I was invited.”

A single one of Will’s eyebrows flicked upwards. “Invited?” He asked.

“Yes.” The entity nodded. He seemed pleased to get a response out of Will.

“Margot?” Will asked. _She isn’t nervous be she_ thought _she had brought this haunt to her home, she was nervous because she_ knew _she had._

The entity nodded to confirm. He pulled on the sleeves of his sweaters so that he was able to play at the cuffs with the tips of his fingers.

_Don’t_. Will thought.

“How?”

The smile dropped from the entities face. He gazed off at an empty corner of the room while seemingly lost in thought, then brought his gaze back to meet Will’s for all too much eye contact.

“I’m not comfortable sharing with you the details with you, unfortunately.” He explained. “Not until I’m certain that our relationship is friendly. Are we friendly?”

The entities voice took on a playful tone; almost teasing, almost flirtatious.

For the second time, the entity made Will laugh. Then, it felt as if a knife were twisting in his chest. “Friendly?”

“Yes. Why not?”

He had formed relationships with spirits before, of course, but he’d never been asked directly. Still, something about this exchange felt familiar to him. Something about how easy it was, and how comforting it all felt. Compared to what the dog had put him through this morning, the vibe this spirit gave him was similar to settling in to take a nap.

Will hadn’t noticed that they two of them had started beaming at each other, or that the entity had taken even more steps towards him. He was now close enough to reach out and touch.

“We can work on being friendly.” Will said, quickly. He took a few steps back to make up for what he had lacked.

All this conversation, all the sentience that he had been demonstrated, and now the need for human relationship… All pointed to this entity being an honest-to-goodness ghost. The energy of someone now passed, now trapped and lost in a place of importance to them. The thing that stumped Will still though, was the _pranks_.

_Ghosts don’t hide things: they whisper, they give you chills, and show up in the corner of your eye._ Will thought. _And ghosts don’t just approach like this. They’re timid and scared. To them, you’re the haunt._

_But he is so confident. He is so at peace with who and what he is._

Will chewed on his bottom lip and let the other man watch him. The entity looked at him, honestly, like he was just happy to see another face.

“Were you ever alive?” Will asked after what felt like a century of silence.

The entity cocked his head, and licked at his bottom lip. “Now,” He said. “That does not sound like a question the household would ask. That is a professional question.

Will nodded.

“Is that your own question?”

Will paused a moment, wondering if the entity would answer him still if he only offered him silence in return.

“Please just, answer.” He asked anyway, trying his best not to sound like he was begging.

The entity thought for a moment, clearly choosing words from what Will could only imagine was a wide vocabulary.

“By the standard of which you are asking- by your definition of the word- no.” He said. Again, his tongue darted over his bottom lip in a way that Will could only describe as mischievous _._ “I have never been alive.”

“You aren’t a ghost.” Will said, now just stating the obvious. He could feel his heart rate climbing, and his head starting to spin. Suddenly the room had grown cold. Fear welled inside of him and brought its own dark shadow to the room.

“No.” The entity confirmed.

Will paused again, swallowing hard. He knew what this was.

“Go ahead.” The entity coaxed. “Ask me.”

Will traced up the angularity of his cheekbones and the full curves of his upper lip. He finally let his eyes meet with the man’s again, when he had lost himself enough in the man’s appearance to feel safe doing so.

“Are you a demon?”

The only answer the entity had time to give was a sharp and toothy grin.

Will opened his eyes with a sharp inhale, and found himself alone in the room again.

“Yeah.” Will said, looking around frantically to ensure that the room was truly empty. “There’s no way I have time to deal with that today.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has a terrible morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting time! Some (happy) unexpected events took place, and I was very preoccupied during my usual laptop hours. Hope this update is enjoyed all the same :)
> 
> **\- Please be sure to check the tags as I have added some, and I don't want anyone stumbling upon anything that they are unequipped to deal with!! -**

_“Hello?”_

The woman who spoke was young. Her voice was fragile. She had large eyes and straight black hair that reached the floor; Most of her form was distorted by hair, and blended with the dark lines of the narrow hallway she had grown to call home. Will had been working with her to make the hall a happier place, but all of that effort was gone. She was back to square one, and she was more fearful than ever.

_"Hello again.”_

Will called out to her. He stood at the opposite end of the hall, and could see that his presence was of no comfort to her. And it shouldn’t have been.

As he took steps towards her, her chest heaved with breaths she didn’t need to take. The paper of the walls fluttered as if they were drawn in with each pull. Beneath the shreds of was only darkness. It was as if the room they were situated in was suspended in space.

_“_ _They want me gone?”_ She asked when Will was close enough that she didn’t need to yell. Still, voice took on a volume that threatened Will’s temples with a headache.

Will tried to smile at her, but his lips broke into a trembling frown. “Yes.” He said. He wished he had more to say- more to offer her. Anything.

_“But I didn’t hurt anyone.”_ She said. _“I didn’t hurt anyone!”_

The second claim reverberated as if it were a ripple of water trapped in a shallow pool. Will had to exert himself not to clutch the sides of his head in an attempt to dull the agony of it.

She stepped herself backwards until her back was tight against the wall, holding her hands up to her chest in a guarded way. Will continued to walk towards her, regardless. He could _feel_ her fear grow; it lapped at his ankles like waves.

Will cupped her cheek gently, when he could. The pressure caused a teardrop to roll from blue eyes. Her eye lashes were already damp and clotted with them.

_“No. Please, no.”_ She pleaded.

Will wished her could listen to her. He wished her could turn back and tell the owners to reconsider, and let her be at ease. It never worked, though. No one was ever able to understand. No one ever listened.

_"_ _I'm sorry.”_

From Will’s hand, the girl started to burn away. She screamed and Will tried to keep his arm from shuddering. He tried to act like he meant this, even attempting to summon feelings of hate for the girl. But all he felt was sorrow.

_"I'm so, so sorry.”_

She dissolved completely, into a wail and a flash of white light. Next to go, was the world she has constructed for herself. The wallpaper peeled away in long, crispy strips and the floor fell like grains sand beneath his feet. Soon, he was standing alone in a darkness so deep he could hardly sense himself. Soon, he couldn’t even bare to breathe.

\--

Will woke up, shaking and clinging to his sweat soaked pillowcase. His comforter had been kicked to the floor and his flat sheet was twisted up around his legs like some kind of constricting vice.

This wasn’t unusual and neither was the nightmare that brought it on. The identity of the ghost often changed- from young to old, beautiful to monstrous- but the hallways were always the same. As was the hopelessness that followed, and the time he needed to recover in the real world.

Thankfully, the tapping of padded toes on the hardwood behind him _did_ help.

He turned his head to come nose-to-nose with one of his transparent roommates, whom he was confident was Winston. Their visual existence waned with their various energy levels, and Will had come to know them mostly based on the vigor they brought to the room. Each dog had a very distinct energy, and Winston’s was always one of peace. Winston had been a service animal in his life before, Will was sure- he was so careful and observant for an animal. He was probably told he had a wise soul _plenty_ when he was alive.

Digby, his other ghost-mate, had a much _snarkier_ presence. He had an independence about him, that Will appreciated from a satirical point of view. He spent most of his day lounging on Will’s couch when he wasn’t there, and then lounging on his bed when he wasn’t there. He was a very good dog but practically apathetic compared to what was typically observed in retrievers.

The new dog, whom Will had adjusted to calling Buster, had acclimated well to his new home. He had proven to be a bit of a night barker and liked to sleep with him on the bed, which were not habits that Will liked to encourage. He had already made a note to try and train him out of it, but at the moment he could feel Buster curled against his feet.

“Good morning.” Will murmured, hardly moving his lips to do so.

Winston pressed his close nose against Will’s cheek and snorted against him, blessing him with a kiss similar to the kisses that seal mothers give their children.

Will could understand why this occurrence may be alarming to someone unaware of what Winston was; the sudden feeling of a cold and wet sneeze, coming out of thin air could be incredibly startling to someone who wasn’t prepared for it. This was just his life, though. Winston was his dog, and this was how his dog said good morning.

Will considered rolling back over, telling Buster to get off the bed, and going back to sleep. He hadn’t yet looked at the clock, but by the way the sun was crawling into his room he knew it was nearly 10:00 AM. He had time. Even if it was only 15 minutes of time, he had time to drift off and give himself a few more minutes of (hopefully nightmare-less) sleep.

Then he heard something fall to the floor in the living room, and was forced to sit bolt-upright.

“Um, hello?” He called, looking out the doorframe that lead to the main part of his apartment.

“Good morning, Mr. Graham!” A pseudo-cheerful voice called back to him. Will could hear the intentional clopping of his intruder’s shoes as he gained on the door-less entry way. “You make the oddest sounds in your sleep.”

The man that now leaned into his doorway, looking left and right, was his landlord: Frederick Chilton. He was a small man with a large personality, and even larger ego. The suit he wore looked expensive and, it likely was seeing as it was the only suit Will had ever seen him wearing and he wore it often. It was caramel in color, and stripped thinly with a light grey. He wore a silken gold scarf, too, that Will _wanted_ to clash with his attire, but it actually looked pretty nice.

“What are you doing here?” Will groaned. He hauled his sheets up over himself as a way to make himself decent- but that didn’t matter. Frederick had walked in on him doing much worse. Finding him randomly trolling around his apartment without invitation wasn’t all that new of an experience.

“I really don’t think you’re in any position to be speaking to me that way.” Frederick boasted. He turned up his chin and gripped at the lapel of his blazer.

_Who wears a blazer at 10:00 AM_?

“The neighbors have been complaining again.” The arrogant man continued without prompt. He walked further into Will’s room, clearly searching for something by the way he ducked his head and peered into the darkness. “Reports of barking in your absence. Scratching above their heads…”

Will rolled his eyes with a deep-gutted sigh.

The daughter of the woman next door was gifted. Will hadn’t known this when he had promised a very rushed and very panicked young mother that he’d watch her for a few hours. He hadn’t mind the company while it lasted, and it was nice to watch the dogs play with her. He didn’t realize that she was going to talk to her mother about the experience when she got back, and he didn’t realize that said mother was going to gossip to the halls about “Mr. Graham in room 275 smuggling _dogs_ in an apartment building” with a strict no animal policy.   

He knew it was possible that other gifted people shared the building with him, and he understood the power of the mind and how it can create vivid hallucinations of things that were never real, but mostly he believed that Frederick was a stubborn man with something to prove. No complaints had been made. No one had heard a thing. He just wanted to catch him breaking the rules. He just wanted a solid reason to kick him out.

“You have to give me notice before you drop in, you know.” Will argued, following Frederick around his bedroom with only his eyes. “That’s the law.”

Frederick laughed “Sue me.”

Although he was always on-time with his rent checks, Frederick always expected poorness out of him. The fact that Will hadn’t yet taken him to court was proof enough to him that Will was not in the financial situation to do so.

Frederick walked back out of the room, but continued to whip his head around the corner as if dogs could be sneaking around like the spies from old films. Will fumbled from his sheets and followed him out, just in time to see Frederick the grab the throw blanket up from the back of his couch.

He held the fibers to his face and breathed deeply.

Will rolled his eyes.

“Does it check out?” Will asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Frederick thought for a moment, really reaching through his mind for _just_ the right thing to say to tick Will off. “I’ve heard Febreeze works wonders.” He said, settling.

With a sound akin to growling, Will threw his arms out to either side of himself. “Look.” He commanded. “Do you see any dogs? Any signs of dogs? No. I don’t fucking have dogs.”

He could feel his voice climbing to a volume he wasn’t proud of. And, as if cued by his lie, Buster ran to his side and barked. It was sweet that he was protective, but Will tried to not react. There was a sliver of a chance that Frederick _could_ hear Buster, and he didn’t need to give any base to this incessant claim.

Frederick put the blanket back down on the couch and glared at him. “Maybe someone tipped you off.” He said, studying the way Will stood and the way he continued to be dressed (a ratty t shirt and boxers- the items he slept in).

Frederick was such a condescending man, for someone so unimportant. Will opened his mouth to say something of that flavor when he heard his phone go off in the other room.

“Best get that, Mr. Graham.”

Will tried to shrug him off as he disappeared back into his room. His phone was still hooked to its charger, but had buzzed itself off the table he typically left it on. He unplugged it, unlocked it, and cringed as he read all the messages from Jack.

_ >> Hey, are you up?_

_> > I’m picking you up soon._

_> > I have a surprise for you. Act surprised._

_> > Will? You better be ready to go when I get there._

_> > Here._

_> > ?_

_> > I’m waiting._

Will tried to keep his sound of discomfort quiet, as to not give Frederick more enjoyment of how much morning he had taken from him.

He grabbed his pants from the day before off the floor and dipped into the bathroom to pick at his appearance. When his teeth were brushed and his curls were neat enough for his liking, he stepped back into the living room to see that Frederick was still snooping around.

He tried to make it obvious that he was leaving, hoping that Frederick would take notice and see himself out as well, but Frederick had perfected the art of ignoring him in just the few short moments they had just been apart.

“I’m leaving.” Will announced, trying to play off like this didn’t bother him. “Please lock the door when you leave.” He asked. He could feel a rage bubbling up in his throat and decided to shout a very quick: “So the dogs don’t get out.” Before darting out into the hallway.

\--

When Jack has said _surprise_ , he had meant “guest.”

And, when he had said _act surprised_ he had meant “be nice.”

Will sat in the passenger seat as he always did, but in the seat behind his ( _that was normally empty_ , a point he needed to stress) sat a young, angular woman, with a head full of tight, august red curls. She smiled at him, batting bright eyes, but did not say a word.

Will assumed she had been warned not to.

He let it go for a while. He hoped that Jack would explain her presence without him needing to ask, because that would be the respectful thing to do, but Jack’s eyes hardly left the road once they got going.

“So.” Will finally said. “She is?”

With a smug smile, Jack turned to him like he was ready with an answer. However, it was the girl that spoke first.

“Freddie Lounds.” She introduced, leaning forward and sticking her hand up in the gap between the front seats. “I’m a writer hoping to be doing a piece on your process.” She explained. She wanted Will to take her hand and shake it, but she was well aware that was likely not going to happen.

“I told you he not be warm to the idea.” Jack said, laughing at the obvious tenseness this woman had just added to Will’s day like that was something to laugh about.

“Oh, and discussing my feelings as if I’m not in the car is a really good place to start with _not_ making me upset.” Will snapped at him in response.

“With all due respect Mr. Graham,” Freddie spoke up again. “You did just speak of me as if I’m not in the car.”

_Oh. This is turning out to be a really, really good day._

Will let his presence in the car drift back into silence while he thought of a valid reason for them to stop the car and make Freddie get out; a reason that Jack would validate anyway.

Will hadn’t yet told Jack about the Verger’s spirit’s true identity, a demon, and he didn’t feel that now was the right time- especially not with the way Freddie pressed the tip of her pen to paper, is if the pressure was keeping her alive.

Just thinking of admitting it, knowing the argument that would likely follow, felt like a weight on his spine.

“I don’t think this is the best case to have extra people in on.” Will muttered, unconfidently. He glanced back to the backseat to see Freddie still smiling.

Her eyes left his face and flashed to the back of Jack’s head, as she awaited his response.

“Why? Do you think it’s too simple?” Jack asked. His brow furrowed in honest confusion.  

“Simple is fine.” Freddie added. “Really, I’m more interested in you than I am… whatever it is that’s terrorizing this _poor_ family.” She explained. She had a sing to her voice that made it seem like she didn’t care either way, for either thing. She just wanted a story.

“I was actually thinking of recommending someone else to them.” Will said. He swallowed hard.

Jack’s foot tapped on the break as if he were ready to swerve the car to curb and scold him. “What do you mean?” He asked, choosing a calmer rout instead.

Will let his point of focus drift out his window. He pressed his forehead to the glass.

“They don’t need anyone else.” Jack continued, long before Will felt confident with his own reason why. “They have you, and you’re the best.”

The flattery was scripted now, but it had worked on Will in the past. He enjoyed the concept of having value, and the fact that his ability could _give him_ value was always pleasant. However, now Will could hear Freddie scribbling in the backseat, which sucked any joy he may still be able to harvest from the speech away.

Jack leaned into Will’s personal space and whispered for him. “They are willing to pay _a lot,_ Will.” He said, as if he didn’t think that Freddie could hear him. “Just suck it up for this one last case. Then, I’ll give you however long you need a break. Okay?”

Again, this was a script that Will had heard before. He always gave in, though. He knew payment was worth it if he could just _get there._ He only had to get through a few days of guilt-ridden bonding, and he could move on with his life- keeping his home and keeping himself fed.

“I know this takes a toll on you. Don’t think I don’t.” Jack added quickly. Now, he wore a solemn smile on his lips that was real enough to make Will smile back at him.

“I believe in you, Will.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal makes Will's day a bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alt. Summary: Hannibal reminds Will what it's like to be listened to, and taken care of.

The Verger-Bloom home fit the haunted moniker more accurately now that Alana and Margot had moved themselves out. The house couldn’t have been empty for more than a few hours, but it already held that clammy emptiness that vacation homes possessed. They had taken most of their everyday-use items with them, with the exception of appliances, deciding to stay at a hotel for the time Will and Jack were going to be working there.

For this, Will was thankful. This would make it easier to keep the demon _thing_ under wraps for a while longer, without any fear of it putting the family at risk. That was, until he was equipped to properly deal with talking about it.

_Talk about what exactly, Will?_

His mood had not improved much during the rest of the drive, but he had revived the ability to make friendly conversation with Jack. They talked about possible plans for a late lunch, while Jack set up his equipment.

It was very, very rare that they ever needed to use it but Jack liked to be prepared for anything. He had a large collection of digital audio recorders, as well as some older devices for recording spiritual communication. He placed a recorder where there had earlier been a spoon, and another in the barren cupboards where there used to be dishes.

While Jack and Will went about their usual business, Freddie snooped around. She took angled pictures of window panes and stairway railings, occasionally pointing the camera at Will only to get immediately blocked by spread fingers and an open palm. She seemed to take this as a challenge and he really wished that she wouldn’t.

“Do you know where you want to set up?” Jack asked, hitting the small record button on another one of his devices, before placing it in the palm of Will’s hand. Will was to leave it on and in his pocket as he worked.

“Same room.” Will said plainly. “He’s still in there.”

Freddie let her camera hang around her neck on the thick, heavily printed strap she had attached to it. “In where?” She asked.

Will gestured towards the stairs. “Morgan’s playroom.”

“How do you know that he’s in there?” She asked, nodding as if she already understood what he hadn’t yet said.

Will looked to Jack as if he were seeking approval. “I just… do.” He said. “I can feel him in there.”

Freddie hummed her approval of his answer out-loud. “What does he feel like?”

Will felt a shiver crawl up his spine and tried to sate it by rubbing vigorously at the nape of his neck. “Have you ever poured yourself a glass of water, and then left it in the kitchen when you went to go sit down?” He asked.

“Of course.”

“You know exactly where the glass is in the kitchen, and it kind of nags at you that you _could_ just go get it if you wanted to but, the urgency isn’t there? That’s what it feels like.”

Freddie seemed to mull this over for a moment, Will could feel the literary cranks turning with in her mind.

“It feels like you left him behind.” She simplified.

Will kept his head low and let his eyes raise to her face in what was not-quite a glare, but also not a look of approval. She looked extremely proud of herself and how her words had clearly struck a chord with Will internally.

“I didn’t know that.” Jack said, interrupting their unspoken dispute. He had found a place to lean and listen while Will explained, and he seemed truly fascinated with what he had heard.

“You never asked.” Will offered, with a quick smile.

Freddie watched them both for a moment, and then resumed her prodding of the room. Will tried to sneak upstairs without her noticing, but he knew that she would likely be by his side the moment he slipped into the in-between.

At least, at that point, her presence wouldn’t matter all that much.

\--

On stressful days like this one, the world felt like anvils against his shoulders. He wasn’t always aware of _how_ heavy life had grown on him until he stepped out of it, but the feeling that accompanied his settling into the barren room was nearly euphoric.

“Hello.” The demon said to him, before he had the time to properly open his eyes and adjust past his elation.

The demon was dressed less casually now, adorned in a checkered, black suit. Each checker was lined with a vibrant red; it seemed to glow like neon lights beneath the fabric, or as if they were cracks in the surface of earth’s crust, leaking heat into the atmosphere. Will had thought the appearance he chose was attractive before, but now he found himself completely stunned by the tight, tailored lines of the suit.

The exhale that was supposed to be grounding came out like a stutter.  

“I am under-dressed.” Will observed with nervous chuckle. He still wore his sleeping shirt and pants from the day before, which had not been any kind of embarrassment to him until this moment.

The demon looked over his body with a flick of his eyes, and smiled. “That’s alright. You have to actually own the clothes you wear.” He excused. The corner of his lips curled even more, into something just as predatory as it was warm. “I just felt like dressing up. I think you look nice.”

Will looked down at his own appearance, sensing the change, to see that the demon had altered the look of his clothes for him. His pants were pressed and darker in color, and his shirt now took the form of a muted-red, collared shirt. It matched the aesthetic of what the demon was wearing and that fact was just invasive enough for Will to remind himself of why he was there.

“I have some more questions I would like to ask you.” Will stated.

The demon shrugged his mouth and unbuttoned the suit jacket he wore, in order to bend and take a seat. A chair rose from the floor to meet him as he did so.

Will checked over his shoulder to see that a second chair had done the same for him. He took it cautiously.

“I have an idea.” The demon said, after Will was situated. “How about, for every question I allow you to ask me… I get to ask you one in exchange.”

Will snorted. “You do realize that I do this for a living?”

The demon’s lightly colored brows furrowed. “Yes.”

“Then do you think I’m bad at it?” Will asked with rhetoric. He didn’t sound offended, or even angry. “What makes you think this is something I’d fall for?”

The demon waited, ushering elaboration with his eyes.

Will took a deep breath. “You want to ask me normal things so that you can know normal things about me, and use them against me later.” He explained. He tilted his head when he was done, adding a certain level of cockiness to his words.

“How would I do that?” The demon asked. His expression never seemed to leave the realm of what was content enjoyment. Some bit of that comforted Will, despite the danger he knew this situation could have.

Will drew in another breath as he thought. “For example, I could tell you where I went to school.” He began. “And from that, you may be able to gather what kind of community I grew up in… What social class I was raised in. Then, from that you can may be able to make assumptions on whether or not I enjoyed my childhood; whether or not I finished school; whether or not I think my mother is proud of me.”

The demon watched Will’s eyes as he spoke. It really felt like he was listening without intent, but Will knew better.

“And then, you could say that my mother was never proud of me… in my mother’s voice.” Will continued. “Tell me if I’m getting cold.”

Will was sure to keep his tone playful. He did know better than to actively antagonize a demon; even one that chose to appear this civil.

“Your effort is valiant.” The demon said. “But I swear to you, I am just looking for conversation.”

The lines of Will’s forehead deepened with a crinkle of his nose. “Why?”

The demon shrugged, and laughed under his breath. “My only friend is a three-year-old.”

“You don’t have any demons to make small talk with?” Will asked. His eyes darted to the corner of the room above the demon’s head, out of a nervous habit. It was empty of all things that could be, and brightly lit. The lighting this room had maintained since his arrival was noteworthy- it was almost darker back in the real world.

“Unfortunately, no.” The demon answered. “I’m all alone here.”

Will wasn’t sure if it was the way that the demon’s expression suddenly dropped, or the way he felt a breeze pick up in the room- but something about the way _I’m all alone here_ was put, caused Will to agree.

“Fine.”

The demon looked to the floor with an expression of peace, then brought his eyes back to Will’s face. “ _Did you_ finish school?”

Will’s face broke into a wide smile, helpless to the charming tease of the demon’s voice.

“I did.”

“Wonderful.” The demon chimed. “Your turn.”

Will went over the list he had formed in his head and prioritized. The first matter at hand: _Why?_

“You said Margot invited you here.” Will reiterated.

“I did.”

“Were you invited here as a demon, or under false pretenses?”

The demon leaned back in his chair, the seeming to need to question that himself. “The answer to that is a little grey.” He said. “The ritual she used was for summoning me. But she did not read the fine print.”

Will shook his head with disappointment. “They never do.” He mused, mostly to himself.

“She thought she was saving her wife and son, for a price that would later come out of her.” The demon continued. It seemed as if he were defending her. “I know she did not believe she was giving her son to me. And I do not believe she thought that I was going to be something sentient.”

 _I know she did not believe she was giving her son to me._ Will let repeat in his head. He made a note to mention that again.

“Okay, why did her wife need saving?” Will asked as a follow up instead.

“Ah-ah.” The demon said, lifting a single finger of his hand up and wagging it in a scolding manner. “My turn.”

Will grumbled, but allowed him to ask his next question without argument.

“How long have you been doing this?” The demon inquired.

“Working with spirits or, how long have I been doing _this_?” Will responded, gesturing his hand about the room. He didn’t want to give him more information than _exactly_ what it was he was requesting.

“Your choice.”

Will let his gaze drift around again before he answered, checking in the corners as if there may be hidden cameras lurking within them.

“I’ve been able to do this my whole life.”

The demon’s head tilted as if there was something about that statement that needed further clarification, but he didn’t push for anything more.

Will took advantage of his silence and pounced on reestablishing his earlier question: “Why did Alana and Morgan need saving?”

“Alana was very sick during her pregnancy.” The demon explained. “There was an expansive amount of time where it wasn’t looking like she was going to pull through, and it was almost certain that the child was not.”

The demon’s eyes seemed to wander in the same way Will’s had, but not for the same purpose of avoidance. It looked like he was reliving events in his head, and was waiting for the answer to his question to come along.

“Margot has long line off loss in her life and she didn’t want to add them to that lineage.” He said. “She tried praying, and when that didn’t work she turned to magic.”

“You aren’t magic.” Will felt himself snap before giving himself time to process.

The demon looked taken aback, but impressed.

“Magic is _very_ similar to prayer.” Will started to explain, trying to level out the tone of his voice to something more instructional than scolding. However, scolding was the exact thing he was doing. “It’s the practice of adding energy into the environment around you in hopes of miracle.” He said. “You are a tear in the lining of the spirit world, bleeding over into that of humanity. You exist without faith- defiant of it. Don’t pull magic into this.”

The demon’s smile hit a note that sent a zipping feeling through Will’s chest. He looked proud to be in Will’s presence.

“My apologies.” He said. “It was a poor choice in words.”

Will reminded himself to breath and let their conversation pause. The demon kept looking at him, studying, like he was ready for more.

“Well?” Will said.

“ _Well_?” The demon repeated.

Will shifted in his seat. “It’s your turn.”

Again, a sense of pride blossomed against the demon’s cheeks. “So it is.” He stated. He thought for a moment before settling on his next question, making Will wonder if he had a priority list too.

“Why is it you do this work, if you dislike it so much?”

Will suddenly felt very small, and the space around him seemed only to grow. “What?” He asked.

“You have a lot of hostilities about coming in to work.” The demon explained, confirming that he had been watching him enter the house. “You seem to calm down as you get going, but it was rough there for a while.”

“I don’t mind the work.” Will stated.

The demon smirked. “Perhaps it is just my presence that brings you that peace.” He joked.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

It was clear they were both joking with each other, by the lively embrace of their tone around their words, but Will wasn’t confident if it was a time to laugh.

The demon’s eyes moved to the floor. He spoke again, before Will had the chance to. “If you begin lying to me, then I will begin lying to you.”

Will sighed with disappointment, but a smile managed to still linger on his lips. “I like being _here_ , and I like being able to help. There are aspects of the job I don’t like, that I don’t have control over, but they come with it.” He said. “I suppose it’s like any job that way.”

“Most jobs have their fair shares of grievances, but they end with reward.” The demon said. His voice was soothing and reaffirming. “Yours starts with reward and ends with grievance.”

The two of them shared a moment of silence. Will felt too caught up in it to breath.

“Most jobs don’t end as violently as yours does.” The demon added, as a last word on the matter. Again, his eyes fell to the floor.

 _So he knows._ Will thought. A lot of the entities he worked with didn’t know he real reason he was there, and would manifest some purpose for him that made sense to them. He had been a father, a son, and a therapist all in the name of luring someone into his good-graces. He didn’t know if this made it easier, now, knowing that this demon was hyper aware of his fate.

Will waited a long while before posing his next question. “Why are you pretending to be a poltergeist?”

The demon shrugged. “I’m not pretending to be anything. I took some dishes, and they made their assumptions.”

“And you’re allowing that.” Will confirmed. “Shouldn’t you be more boastful and proud? Make the walls bleed and kill the neighbor’s cat? Isn’t that what you do?”

The demon chuckled to himself. “I’ve never been all that fond of those kinds of scare tactics.” He said. “They keep this home so tidy and the neighbor’s cat has never done me any harm.”

Something about the air of the room fluctuated, and Will couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He figured that must have meant Freddie had finally made her way up the stairs. The demon seemed to be aware of it too, shifting in his seat as if he were listing for something, before continuing.

“Besides,” He began. “I have nothing to prove here. They will know my power when it’s necessary.”

It sounded like a threat, but the way he said it had the words passing his lips as nothing more than simple fact. If one hadn’t really been listening, or hadn’t been aware of the demon’s true-self, it may have been breezed over as nothing more than casual boasting.

“Of course,” The demon continued, taking the imaginary question-baton. “That does leave the questions of why _you_ haven’t told them. Have you told your partner?”

Will answer quickly. “No.”

“May I ask why?”

This wasn’t a question he wanted to elaborate on, as he wasn’t sure of all the details himself. He understood, however, that the lack of an answer could be easily read into. Will didn’t want to give away that power.

“I can’t find the benefit in it.” He said. “If I tell him, he’ll likely make me drop the case.”

He worried that the demon may call him out on his lie again and added, “I don’t want a less experienced investigator in here, pissing you off.” in hopes that it would be enough to keep the demon in his own mind- looking for his own benefit in staying a secret.

“I do appreciate that.” The demon said, taking the bait. “You care very much about people.” He included, creeping against the line of observations he claimed he wouldn’t be making.

“I do.” Will replied. He thought back to what the demon had said about Morgan being _given_ to him and felt a knot of nausea climb in his belly. “I care about this family and I want what is best for them.” He added. “Can you tell me what you plan on doing with the boy?”

The demon took his own turn to deep sigh. “I don’t believe you need to ask that question. You seem very knowledgeable in what it is demons do.” He said. There was no bite to his claim, implying that he wasn’t upset by Will’s assumptions. Still, it filled Will with a shift on unease.

“You plan on possessing him.” Will stated.

The demon nodded. “Eventually. When it is that I can get his permission.”

Will scoffed. “’Trying to tell me you can’t woo a three-year-old?

“A human must consent in order for possession to take place properly. And, a three-year-old cannot consent.” The demon explained.

Will scoffed again, this time with more authority. “That’s bullshit.”

The demon withdrew, searching for whatever it was that had just given Will a boost of antagonistic energy. He was unthreatened by it, but exceedingly curious as to where it came from.

“You can take anyone you want to. Don’t lie to me.” Will snapped, almost unable to bring himself back down. The room grew dark, suddenly, as if a cloud had passed over the sun outside. But, there was no sun. This darkness was coming from him.

“I can, but I _won’t_.” The demon confirmed for him. “It’s important to me that my host is as cooperative about their becoming as I am.”

Will shook his head as if he were rejecting the concept. “Why?”

“Trust is much more powerful than force, don’t you agree?”

The words were so simple, but still seemed to move something within the walls of Will’s being. Suddenly, he found himself swallowing back tears. The demon stood.

“Maybe, we should break for the day.” He suggested. He offered his hand to Will, to help him get up from the chair.

Will didn’t accept it.

“What?”

“You seem overwhelmed.” The demon explained. “And I’ll still be here tomorrow.”

Will swallowed hard before taking his hand and letting the being help him up. They locked eyes for a moment, with the demon’s hand embracing the full of Will’s upper-inner arm.

“Will.” Will said.

It was sudden and out of place, only causing a look of confusion to cross the demon’s expression.

“My name is Will.” He explained. “You asked for it last time, and it’s your turn to ask a question.”

“Will.” The demon repeated. The sound fit his lips and tongue as if he was made to claim the solitary syllable. “That suits you.”

His grasp on Will’s arm tightened and, in a blink, Will was back in the real world. 

_You can't let this happen again._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets trapped in a moment from his past, and Hannibal gives him a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I've been having a bit of a struggle with the power at my home today, so I may upload chapter 6 a little later tonight, or a little later tomorrow. All depends on the weather!
> 
> And this is just a reminder to check those tags (especially the blood and gore one) before reading this chapter!  
> Hope you enjoy :)

_“Hello?”_

The hallway, again. Same walls, same tussled wallpaper. Different entity though; now it was the demon. And, it was Will who spoke first.

_"Hello again.”_

The demon’s voice was comforting in the very way Will had always wished his could be. It brought him back down from the clouds of his panic, and allowed him to feel the pressure of the floor on the soles of his feet again.

The demon turned slowly to face him, folding his hands behind his back and smiling. He leaned on to his heels, and then on to his toes in a childish manner- as if he were his very own rocking chair. He was playing so innocent, but there was no way he didn’t know what this was.

Will didn’t speak as he approached him. He hardly took a breath. It wasn’t until the demon could see Will’s arms shaking, and the tears building in his eyes, that the demon spoke again. 

_"_ _They want me gone.”_

Will nodded, trying so desperately not to cry. He reached for the demon’s face, and he didn’t flinch away. The demon let him cup his cheek.

Will always felt weak to the begging, and the pleading to stay. This…was somehow worse.

_“I didn’t hurt anyone.”_

The demon hushed his voice to a whisper. He didn’t sound like he was pleading, though. He hardly sounded scared. Will wasn’t much shorter than the demon, but this act made him feel so small. He felt as if the floor were sinking beneath him.

_“But you will.”_

The light cut through the cracks in Will’s hand and the demon’s face trembled.

The tears in the demon’s eyes came quickly, widening in surprise. His lips fell open in a suppressed gasp- like he didn’t expect this to hurt. He fell to his knees with a thud, and appeared to be in too much agony to even speak. Regardless, his lips still moved around the words he wanted to say.

Will’s hand didn’t leave his cheek. He wanted to apologize, as he always did, but he couldn’t. Not to him. Not like this.

_“I can’t. I can’t.”_

Something broke within Will and his hand dropped. He stammered and stepped away. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t move.

The demon stayed in his place on the floor, watching Will panic with a look in his eyes that lacked sympathy. It lacked much of anything, really. To Will is felt like he had hit the reset button on his dream, and now the carefully programmed characters didn’t know what to do.

In one blink, the demon smiled.

In the next, he was gone.

Then, Will found himself in a completely different room.

The surprise threw him backwards. He was seated on a hardwood floor, at the head of a powder-crafted circle. The light inside the room suggested it was mid-day but outside of the windows was nothing but void. He couldn’t catch his breath.

The sigil sitting in the middle of the circle, and the trickle blood coming from his hand, told him that he had already done _it_. The way he vaulted backwards had broken the circle.  

The demon rose into the circle, dark and lanky like something that had crawled from a wooded swamp. He filled the space of the circle with branch like antlers, twisting and nightmarish. His shoulder bones pointed like weapons, and his fingers were clawed. He still had the same face, the same calmness, but now his appearance was true. He was devastating.

He moved from the circle like smoke, through the gateway Will had made for him. Will tried to stand but couldn’t find his feet to do so.  Instead he fell, fetal, at the entities feet.

The demon lifted him by the arm, then struck him against the wall. He smiled. His appearance started to glitch from what it was, to what Will had hoped to never see again.

Shorter hair. Broader forehead. Larger ears and a darker smile. Will knew this demon too, and he knew there was going to be a lot more blood before this was over.

_“No. Please, no.”_

Will begged. He tried to twist away and into the wall. He tried to wake up, but that life felt too far away now. He couldn’t pull up. He couldn’t remember how to get there. This all felt too real.

The demon stabbed into his belly with his index finger. He pulled it across his abdomen with the same ease it would take to just touch him on the surface. He watched his blade-like appendage move, with no interest in what Will looked like when he was suffering.

Will split like butter, entrails pouring to the floor as soon as they were allowed the freedom. His mouth filled with blood and he tried to coax himself into choking on it.

Anything to make this faster. Anything to make the pain stop.

The demon changed fully into the new presence, the old demon. His appearance was less ethereal. He was much more of a beast, much more aggressive, and much more terrifying.

He reached inside of Will with full and meaty arms- up into his chest with one hand, before adding the other. Will could feel himself slipping away with his touch. He was losing. He was dying. The demon was climbing inside of him and Will could do nothing to stop it.

Nothing.

Nothing.

He was hopeless.

“ _Wake up, Will._ ”

\--

Will woke up screaming and clutching the inside of his arm. Buster bolted off the bed, scuttling to safety in the bathroom. Winston watched him from the door, ears back and waiting for instruction while Will wailed.

It felt as if someone were actively carving into his skin- dragging the serrated edge of a blade against the supple flesh there. The skin was hot and raised where he gripped, damp with freckles of blood. He ground his teeth to silence himself- the pain was nearly unbearable.

He had been through this before, and knew what it was. It was a gift.

_Give me a break._

Will sat upright, keeping his hand on his arm and his teeth locked together.

“Winston?” Will called, through a cracking voice.

Winston was suddenly beside him on his bed, curled up with his head in his lap. Will couldn’t move to pet him but, even the heavy presence of his muzzle was enough to help him get through this.

“Good boy.” He breathed.

After a moment, Buster joined them and wiggled his nose under Will’s elbow. Digby took Winston’s previous spot in the doorway, watching with an apathetic-ness that typically came from fathers who weren’t quite sure how to help their crying child.

The last time he had done this, he had been alone. This attention made it so much easier to sit through, and it made it easier for the nightmare to fade out of his mind.

Eventually, the tearing stopped and the burning nulled enough for Will to pull his hands away. Neatly printed letters were now etched into his skin, bright red against his paleness.

“Hannibal.” He read. The first “a” clung to his lips and dragged on as he did, the sound making an imprint on the back of his mind as if a physical hand were holding him there.

Will had figured this would happen. On his ride from the Verger-Bloom home he had noticed his arm starting to itch- as if he had been bitten by some kind of bug. And, as the evening drew on, his arm got more and more irritated. It had almost been too painful to sleep on.

When the demon- when _Hannibal_ \- had gripped his arm, he left him with this.

Gaining the name of a demon wasn’t an easy task, and took a certain level of skill to do safely. Demons aren’t all that open to sharing this kind of thing because, a demon name holds their power. One needs their name to summon them, and one needs their name to exorcise them.  

Even with Will’s gift, _this_ made it more official; with Hannibal’s name, Will could send him away.

The fact that it had been given to him willingly did nothing but worry him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal expands on what his intentions are with Morgan.

Will’s mind was too frantic to grab on to anything for the rest of the morning. He cleaned and wrapped his arm, and he did some prying through the internet for any link of the name “Hannibal” to “demonic possession.” But, by the time he was in Jack’s car, he couldn’t even recall if he had eaten or not, or when he had gotten dressed.

Most of the conversation on the drive was based around Freddie and her article. Freddie was still writing and still found Will _fascinating_ despite him not giving her all that much to go on. He wondered how much information Jack had shared with her while he was out.

He could hear Jack talking to him through the drive, and he could hear himself responding. He doubted Jack even noticed his obvious auto-pilot setting because, he didn’t make any comment about his strings of uh-huh’s and mhm’s. He went right along with them.

When they arrived at the Verger-Bloom home, Will went straight to the room. He didn’t wait for Jack to set up or give him his typical recording device. He didn’t wait for Freddie to ask anymore prodding questions. He felt hurried to get into the room and didn’t think about what that meant until he crossed the threshold.

He could feel Hannibal in the room with him. He tried to disallow his sudden hesitation from showing but, suddenly, he was overwhelmed with dread. He was running from the fear of the demon, right into the arms of the demon.

He needed to be stronger than this, but was frozen in the doorway. He wanted to run back down the stairs.

_"Will?”_

The voice felt like it came from within him, but it was the demon’s voice. He sounded concerned. He sounded like he cared.

_Get a hold of yourself, Will._ He thought to himself, scolding himself. He took a deep breath and let himself step further into the room. It wasn’t long before he was calm enough to step into the demon’s world.

\--

When Will’s eyes reopened, he found himself standing in the kitchen. The change nearly made him jump.

“Whoa.”

Hannibal walked to him from a back counter, two mugs of coffee in his hands. He was dressed more casually than their last encounter, but not nearly as casual as the first.

His shirt was a crisp white, and tucked into slate grey slacks. The fabric was thin and pressed to his body in ways that made him seem _warm_. Will wanted to touch him.  

Instead of acting on impulse, Will looked down at his own appearance to find himself still wearing his own clothes: a blue and green plaid flannel shirt, and dark parts. Hannibal hadn’t changed it for him, and this made him feel somewhat proud. He had dressed properly for the occasion.

“Good morning, Will.” Hannibal said. He beamed with the words.

“I didn’t know you could do this.” Will responded, gesturing to the room around him. “Am I still in the play room?”

Part of Will was scared to hear the answer. If Hannibal had somehow teleported them down to the kitchen, Will wondered where else he could teleport them to, and how long he could keep them there.

“Yes.” Hannibal confirmed. He stepped in close enough to hand Will a mug, then stepped away as soon as Will took it from him. He was being very cautious of the space they shared.

“Thank you.” Will said. His fingers fumbled over the ceramic. It was solid and warm, just like a cup of coffee should be. He wondered what it would taste like.

“And, thank you for…” He added, sticking out his damaged arm as an example.

Hannibal nodded. “I found it was only fair.”

As far as he knew, _his_ name didn’t hold any power to it. Hannibal couldn’t harm him any easier with a name, he couldn’t control him with it.

It wasn’t _fair_ that he was given the name, in that respect; the name gave him an advantage. Hannibal had _already_ been summoned, so the only thing Will could use this name for was exorcism. He couldn’t imagine that exorcism was what Hannibal wanted from him.

Will wanted to ask how or why Hannibal felt that was true, that this was somehow _fair_ , but his focus drifted back into the black of his coffee.

“Isn’t there some rule about…eating in the underworld?” Will asked. It wasn’t completely rhetorical, but an answer wasn’t expected.

“That if you eat the food you have to stay?” Hannibal said, completing the legend for him. He had a twinkle in his eyes sold amusement. It was as if he were truly proud that Will knew things like this- that he was well versed and intelligent. The fact that he always seemed _surprised_ by Will’s knowledge was far from flattering, but this kind of reaction always made up for it.

“Yes.” Will replied, simply.

Hannibal sighed heavily before sipping his own coffee. He leaned back against the counter, taking the weight off his feet. Will couldn’t help but watch the way the dark liquid stained his lips, and how Hannibal rolled them against each other to get them clean.

“This isn’t the underworld, Will.” Hannibal said.

_“But you’re welcome to stay.”_ suddenly drifted through Will’s ear drums, like a whisper against his neck.

It was Hannibal’s voice, but Hannibal didn’t move to make them. There wasn’t even a shuffle of his shoulders, or a wink to soften the blow of his suggestion. It was the same way his name had been spoken in the room before.

“Was that you or me?” Will asked, losing confidence that it had been Hannibal who had projected the words to him. Maybe his own mind was putting them there?

Hannibal let his head tilt to the side. “Interesting that you had to ask.”

Demons were always rumored to be seductive to some extent. In movies, this was always one of their tools. If they couldn’t seduce you _then_ they would turn to more hostile forms of takeover, scare tactics and pain. Due to Will’s experience, he assumed that this was all just Hollywood trying to make money of the spooky and the sexy with one blow. The first “step” hadn’t been something he’d experienced before and, with Hannibal, he wondered if there even was a step two.

Will sipped at his drink. It tasted like a good cup of coffee he had drank before. It forced him to smile, reveling in the magic of it all.

Hannibal watched him take his sip similarly to the way Will had watched him sip at his own mug.

Hannibal was impossibly charming, almost too much for Will to fathom him ever hurting someone. However, he knew that was a false observation.

“I’ve been doing some research on you.” Will said. Again, he gestured to his arm as an explanation of what he meant. “There isn’t…a lot on you but, what I did find was that you are known for your relation to human cannibalism.” He explained. He tried to say it plainly.

Hannibal laughed. “Extraordinary.” He said. “I haven’t possessed that many people with in the last several decades. I didn’t think you’d be able to find much at all.”

_Is that why he gave me the name? So that I could learn about him?_

Will cleared his throat and attempted to adjust himself into something more commanding. “My job? Is to protect this family…Hannibal.” He said, pausing before the use of the name, wondering what kind of reaction it would stir from the demon.

The color in Hannibal’s face rose to what Will could confidently call a blush, and then settled back down to the golden tones of his skin. Other than that, Hannibal had no response to the kenning.

Will gulped. “If you _really_ don’t mean them harm as you seem to want to imply: convince me you won’t do anything to Morgan without his consent.” He instructed. “ _Prove_ to me that you won’t…make him eat his mothers’ after I leave.”

Hannibal’s brow furrowed. “Does that matter?” He asked.

At first, Will wanted to scoff at him. He wanted to shout “Of course it fucking _matters_. I can’t have you wandering around, letting children eat their families.” until he realized that wasn’t what Hannibal meant.

Hannibal didn’t understand _why_ it would matter whether or not he was going to harm the boy- Will was here to remove him, regardless of his intention. _That_ was his job, not to interview entities until they promised to be good.

Will looked down at his arm again, and felt that click into place too.

_He gave me this as a test of trust. He leveled the field._

“Yes.” Will responded. His eyes shakily found their way back up to Hannibal’s face.

Hannibal watched him for a long time. He was climbing through the roots of his memory, all while taking Will in. Again, Will didn’t realize how lost he’d allowed himself to get in Hannibal’s eyes, until he opened his mouth to speak.

“I should let you know that my possession does require sacrifice.” Hannibal said. It was just as plain a statement as Will’s previous accusation of cannibalism.

Will’s jaw dropped slightly. He was shocked, but he judged himself for _why_. This shouldn’t have been shocking.

“For Morgan, it would _likely_ be Margot.” Hannibal continued, nodding his head as he explained. “Or possibly a friend he has yet to make. But it has to be someone close to him.”

Will’s head shook autonomously. “Is this supposed to further convince me?” He asked, jaw still slack and eyes still wide.

“No. This is just honesty for the sake of honesty.” Hannibal replied. “But, I won’t do a single thing to that boy unless he asks it of me, or allows it. Sacrifice included.”

Will took a deep breath inward. He could feel the topic of consent approaching again, and he didn’t want to react the same way as before.

He couldn’t understand why consent would matter all that much to a demon. It was possible, he thought, that a demon may get off on the destruction of the hosts humanity. Agreeing to kill someone they love in exchange for power was definitely something dark that one would never fully be able to come back from.

Regardless of what he thought and what he could fantasize about, Will wanted Hannibal to explain himself. When he felt prepared for the topic, Will urged Hannibal to continue. It did seem like he was waiting for a cue.

“In order to access the full ability that I can offer, full cooperation must be place.” Hannibal explained. “If he fights me, then I have to fight him. My energy goes to that. The perfect host is one that gives themselves and allows their demon full control of their body in exchange for…whatever is it they agree upon.”

Hannibal stepped away from the counter and brought himself to lean forward on the island. He was now quite a bit closer to Will, but Will didn’t feel trapped like he had last time.

When Will didn’t step away, Hannibal smiled and continued.

“Power. Protection. Security. Whatever it is the host feels they need, I can offer them.”

“Is that right?” Will said, not yet convinced.

“Of course.” Hannibal said, with a cautious level of excitement in his tone. “Why do you think so many demons are jumping off buildings, breaking their own limbs, and spinning themselves at the neck?”

Will thought for a moment. His heart rate had started to climb again, making him swallow hard before stating, “It kills the host.”

Hannibal nodded. “Precisely. Kill the host, and you have all the control.” He confirmed. He wasn’t unaware of Will’s discomfort. He made an effort to keep his eyes averted and his volume low, as he continued. “But, once you kill the host, the body starts to decay. Then, you don’t have a place to live anymore.” He clarified. “The power of a demon inside the body of a human who trusts him is much more powerful than one who is constantly fighting to be free. And that is the only thing I have interest in. I will not settle for less than my best.”

Will nodded as Hannibal finished. He was grasping the concept better, but Hannibal could tell that he _still_ wasn’t completely on-board with it.

“Besides, Morgan is young.” Hannibal continued. “There isn’t much I could _do_ with his body at this age.”

Will’s understanding seemed to take two steps back, as his face darkened around the final statement. The words bothered him.

_Morgan is safe for now but, in two years? Three?_

Hannibal staying in this home made Morgan a time bomb.

“How long do you wait?” Will asked.

“Until they’re done with secondary school, usually.” Hannibal explained. “I wait for them to be sure what they’re doing with their lives.”

Will’s brow furrowed at him. Hannibal’s tone was too dry for him to tell if he was joking or not.

Hannibal chuckled at Will’s lack of response. “It’s either college or cannibalism.” He said, confirming that he was just being playful with a singing voice.

Will did not find the joke funny, and continued to glare at him.

Hannibal sighed peacefully. “I wait for true maturity.” He said, taking his answer more seriously this time. “It’s different for everyone. Morgan…will take some time.”

Hannibal drifted off in thought, with a look of displeasure on his face. Will could imagine that his situation was frustrating, but he wasn’t able to sympathize with it at the moment. This was stirring something inside of him that he thought was long dead.

“So,” Will began. His voice was in a lower range than usual, making Hannibal perk up his stance. “You play some games with him. Freak his parents out, but make him laugh. And soon…you’re the kids best friend.” He narrated. He tried to hold eye contact with the demon, but he kept falling away. “As he gets older he’ll struggle, because no one else can see you. He’ll sound crazy. But you know that. You want that.” He said. He was more confrontational than he’d ever been before with an entity, hostility boiling out from inside of places he didn’t think he had anymore. “Because he will have no one but you. You _are_ team Morgan.”

Will paused as if he were giving Hannibal the chance to speak, but Hannibal knew better than to take it. Instead, Hannibal continue to study Will’s physique as if he were looking for something specific on him. He eyes were so curious.

“So you when you ask your question,” Will continued, shrugging off Hannibal’s gaze. “When you request entitlement to the rest of his life, what could possibly stop him from saying no? You’re his _friend_.”

Hannibal took his own long and deep inward breath. He put his coffee mug down on the counter, giving himself plenty of time to come up with what to say.

“Isn’t this the very thing you asked me not to do to you?” Hannibal accused. He didn’t sound upset with Will, which was officially reoccurring.

Hannibal could stack himself up to be as tall as the room. He could sweep beneath Will’s feet and take him down. He could psychologically torture Will until he broke beyond repair, as punishment for challenging him.

But he didn’t. He just brought a taste of disappointment into the room and sighed.

“But I’m right, right?” Will replied. He was starting to feel light headed, and needed to remind himself to breathe. He checked the corners of the room and saw that they were growing dark. He knew that was his doing, not Hannibal’s.

“You are very good at your job.” Hannibal said, in lieu of an answer. “Did you have a demon?”

The question took Will off guard. His breath caught and they were both launched back into the play room.

“What?” Will asked. His voice was shaky.

“Did you have a demon?” Hannibal repeated. He said it so simply, but the heat of the room seemed to climb into what was unbearable. His façade of humanoid appearance glitched away, leaving Will to look into red eyes, ash-black skin, and a mess of menacing antlers.

Will couldn’t speak. Panic swept him up just like it had in his dream, and he couldn’t break free of it. He shook his head and covered his face.

“Will?”

\--

Will broke back into the real world too quickly. His body hurt. He couldn’t stop shaking.

For a long while, he just laid on the floor. He had to convince himself to get up, and was only able to do so by reminding himself that Hannibal still was in the room- _watching_ him. He fumbled down the stairs and back into the kitchen.

Freddie was the first to greet him. She looked bored but not unobservant of the tears rolling down Will’s cheeks.

“So?” She asked.

Will pushed passed her, and looked for Jack.

Jack came jogging in from the living room as if Will had verbally called for him. He looked confused and just a bit worried at the sight of his friend. He brought his hands out to him, and Will wondered if he looked like he might collapse.

“I need a break.” Will said. He didn’t give Jack a moment to speak for him. “We have to come back tomorrow.”

“What?” Jack said as his official reply to seeing Will in a state of panic.

Will felt he didn’t deserve to _need_ an explanation for this.

“I…need a break, Jack.” He repeated. He didn’t know how else to say it. He tried to remember that Jack believed this to be a poltergeist. He tried to remember that this all seemed so dramatic for just a poltergeist. All he could think about though, was what the quickest way out the front door was.

Jack looked left and right, as if he were looking for an audience. “We promised this family-” He started to argue.

Will felt like he was going to vomit. “I’m not _quitting._ ” He said. His voice cracked and the tears came in worse. He was having trouble blinking them aside. “I need a break. Just a break.”

Jack still looked at him as if he was still lost. Will didn’t understand how they had gotten here- to this point in their relationship. Will didn’t even want to call it a _friendship_ anymore.

“You never need a break.” Jack said. It sounded like a question.

Will could hardly breathe. “God _dammit,_ Jack.” He snapped. He realized that he was slouching, holding his stomach, and forced himself to stand upright. “You always tell me to _tell you_ if I’m getting in over my head and then you just…” He shouted, trying to keep his head level as best he could. “You don’t _listen_ when I _tell you._ ”

From behind him, Will heard a camera shutter snap. He didn’t need to look at her to know that Freddie had just caught an image of his blow-up. He probably looked insane, and she was going to potentially make him the face of modern mediums everywhere.

This was just too much. The last several days of his life had been so much- so _heavy._ His only moments of comfort he could call upon were when he was in the in-between- when he was with _Hannibal._ And that was dangerous.

Will groaned and tried to shove himself passed Jack. Jack stuck his arm out and grabbed him at the shoulder, disallowing his exit.

“Will?” He said. “Tell me what’s going on.”

The lights in the room flickered and a picture frame on the wall flew in Jack’s direction. It landed and shattered by his feet, leaving him unharmed. It was enough to startle room.

Will stopped crying and let silence grow. He looked to the naked space where the frame used to be and could feel Hannibal standing there. He wasn’t doing anything, just standing.

After a moment of figure-less eye contact, Will turned his eyes back to Jack and forced a smile.

“I’ll be in the car, okay?”

He dipped away from Jack’s hold, and sneaked out the door. Jack and Freddie remained fixated on the naked space on the wall. Neither of them wanted to be there anymore, either.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack tries to talk to Will about what's going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed- it is not the weekend, and this update is rather later.  
> I can explain.
> 
> I had the flu, and I wanted these chapters to do be good. The flu was not allowing for any kind of quality thought process.  
> I will still be (hopefully, unless the universe has other plans like it has so much this month) updating this coming weekend, as well as Halloween day!
> 
> This chapter is very short, but the next makes up for it (again, hopefully). Sorry for the wait.  
> I hope you enjoy <3

Will dropped himself down in the passenger seat of Jack’s car. He fasted his seatbelt as if he planned on going somewhere, sometime soon, but he knew there was no chance of that. Jack would want to finish today’s _investigation agenda_ without him. He’d take his time. He’d make Will wait.

Will’s gaze fell outside of the front window, but he wasn’t looking at anything- seeing anything. The world was becoming a halftone illustration.

_Did he…Protect me from Jack?_

It wasn’t that Will thought he needed protection in that moment- it wasn’t as if Jack was going to physically assault him. It was possible though, that Hannibal thought he might. It was equally possible that Hannibal just wanted him to let Will go, and threw the frame as a scare tactic.

_The thing he said he had no taste for._

The thought of such a thing brought a suffocating tightness to his chest. Will had all these ideas building fantasies in his head of what Hannibal _should_ be doing, and how he _should_ be acting. The fact that he was deifying them only made Will fear him more.

Hannibal _should_ be upset with him for storming out. He _should_ be bringing his wrath down on the house as if it were made of brittle matches. In fact, he shouldn’t even _be_ here. He should have followed Morgan to the hotel, with his mothers. There was no reason for him to still be in the house, except that it was the only place Will knew where to visit him.

Hannibal was right. He did have a demon, and he knew what lurked inside of Hannibal’s charm. He just wanted Hannibal to get it _over with_ and do what it was Will knew he wanted to do. What he _had_ to want to do.

Jack rapped his knuckled on the driver’s side window, shaking Will from his focus. He could have opened the door and let himself in, but he pointed to the handle as a way to ask for Will’s permission.

Will leaned over the seat to open the door for him. Jack got in and sat next to him without words, drumming his thumb against the steering wheel. Will figured that he was waiting for _him_ to stir up the conversation again, but Will wasn’t in the mood for biting at this behavior. He didn’t have anything for him.

“I’m sorry about that.” Jack finally said. He tried to look Will in the eye, but Will kept his eyes fixed forward, out on the street.

Jack sighed and resumed his steering-wheel drum session while he thought of what else to say.

“The family is getting impatient, Will.”

He had chosen his words carefully and it had paid off. Will’s head swiveled in his direction with a softly dropped jaw.

“What?” Will asked. “It’s been two days.” He sounded offended, and it was because he was.

Will looked down at his hands in disbelief. He coughed quietly to purge the choking feeling sweeping over him. Alana and Margot, secretive as they may be, seemed _reasonable_. They seemed like they would _understand_. At the very least they seemed like they would have patience.

“You’re usually done in one.” Jack added as an argument.

_When it’s a poltergeist._ Will completed for him in his head. Once sentience came to play, the estimated time of completion stretched. Taking out haunts that knew they were once people could stretch into weeks, even with Will’s gift. Demons were more complicated, with the way the rooted into people.

Will felt himself shiver and shook his head. “It’s _hardly_ been two days.”

Jack watched him move as if he were something to study. “This is more than a poltergeist.” He stated. He sounded just the smallest sliver of what Will would call _sorrowful_. He didn’t sound like he was accusing Will of lying, but Will still felt his defenses go up as if he had.

“We always knew that, Jack.” Will snapped. He tried laughing under his breath to bury his aggression. “Morgan is too young for one of those to latch on to him.” Will added, knowing that he didn’t need to elaborate to Jack. Jack knew better.

_So do you._ Will scolded himself.

“So, what is this we’re dealing with?” Jack asked. 

_What am I supposed to say?_ Will thought. He dug this hole for himself and he was confident it had already been filled in. To lie would put Jack in danger, and to tell the truth would betray Hannibal.

_What does it matter if you betray Hannibal? Who is he to you?_

_Someone who has been nothing but kind to me. Don’t you owe him this?_

“Will, I feel like you’re withholding information from me.” Jack continued when Will failed to offer him response. “I can’t help you if you keep things from me.”

Will stared at him, unblinking and still unprepared to speak a word.

For a moment, Jack looked as if he may break around seeing his friend reject him like this. Then, he shook it off. “Please, Will.” He pleaded. “What is this?”

Will shook his head. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and felt how tacky with sweat his face had become. “I… I don’t know.” He lied.

Jack took a smooth palm to the top off his head and pulled back as if he were trying to un-crease his forehead. With a heavy sigh, he opened the car door and excused himself. He was just as frustrated with Will has Will was with the situation, so he couldn’t blame him for the abrupt departure.

When Jack was completely out of sight, and back in the house, Will let his head dip into the dashboard in front of him. He felt tears welling in his eyes, and welcomed them. He sobbed into the cracking pleather and tried to ignore the fact that he could _feel_ Hannibal watching him from inside.

_What are you doing?_


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will tries to talk to Hannibal about what's going on.

Will had every intention of crawling into bed when he arrived back at his apartment. He had every intention of curling into his pillows, letting Buster _and_ Digby sleep on the bed if they wanted to, and letting himself drift into whatever nightmare his mind had chosen for him.

Instead, it was 2:00 AM and Will was walking.

When he had arrived home, the dogs all avoided him and he knew why; he felt guilty, and the guilt had made him hostile. He was casting all kinds of fowl energy into the atmosphere and it was messing with them. And that, in turn, made him feel even more guilt.

Generally, guilt was a feeling he could push away until sleep took him. Guilt wasn’t a new feeling for him, and dealing with it came easy in the past. However, tonight it was unrelenting.

It prodded at his gut like something that was trying to break free from within him. He tried all the techniques he knew to tame it, but anything other than _dwelling_ on it made it worse.

So, he left the apartment and just started walking. He let himself _dwell._

He used to walk when he was younger as a form of relaxation. Like those times, he didn’t have a destination in mind when he started. He just moved in a straight line until something swayed him to do otherwise. After a while, the streets stopped looking familiar, and he tried not to let it phase him. If he traced his steps back in his mind, he knew that he could get home when he wanted to.

Will wanted to talk to someone. He was sure that would help, if he had someone who knew everything already. Someone that wouldn’t reprimand him for what he already knew was wrong. He knew he didn’t have that in Jack, and there was no one he was closer with than Jack.

An idea came to him suddenly, and for the first time in hours Will’s feet stopped moving. He rubbed his chilling hands together and winced at the thought that had crept into his mind. Then, he started to walk again.

\--

The Verger-Bloom property came up under his feet quicker than he felt it should have. Will hadn’t been sure his body would let him get there, but there he was- shivering on the dew-damp, lush lawn. He wondered if Hannibal could sense his presence even from his position so far behind the gate.

_Getting to know him was a mistake._ He thought. _You should have turned down the clients._

_You tried._ He reminded himself as he tested the lock on the gate. Jack had the keys. He scaled it with his eyes and stretched out his hands, before starting to climb. He hopped down on the other side and gave himself another moment to reconsider- there had been many more on his walk.

The home was dark. Alana, Margot, and Morgan were still at the hotel and safe. He was going to be alone with Hannibal.

_You should have gotten rid of him the moment you got his name._ He scolded. But, it wasn’t enough of a reproach to stop himself from moving up the driveway.

He expected to feel more stress, more culpability and internal agony as he closed in on the front door. Instead, he could already feel himself relaxing.

_You should have told Jack._

_But you didn’t._

He wondered if this feeling was real, or if it was something Hannibal could fabricate somehow. Like a toxin in the air, Will was breathing it in and feeling its numbing effects, protecting him from the fact that he was actually decaying around his still living skeleton.

_He’s a demon. He could hurt me._

_But it he hasn’t. He’s taken care of me. He protected me._

Will checked above the door for a spare key, and it clattered to the ground for him. He went to unlock the door and found his hands to be stuck, shaking in front of the key-hole.

_Is that enough?_

_I don’t know._

_Why wouldn’t it be?_

Will closed his eyes, turned the key, and made his way inside.

\--

Hannibal felt different at night. Electric almost. Will wondered if maybe this had been the real cause of Alana and Margot’s call- they could feel him at night even without explanation. The busy energy would be uncomfortable, if it wasn’t attached to the stable image Will was being presented with.

Hannibal had taken them to what appeared to be a living space, full of deep reds and browns; it was cozy by design. There was a small couch with a fire place in front of it, and an ornate desk pressed in the corner.

Hannibal stood behind the couch, pouring a glass of what looked to be wine from a small bar.

“Hello.” He said, turning his head with the smirk Will had come to expect along with his greetings.

“Hello.” Will mirrored. His own inflection was lost on the word, as if it had been copy and pasted straight from Hannibal’s mouth.

Hannibal’s shoulders tensed as if Will emotionlessly repeating him was something that made him uncomfortable. “It’s awfully late for one of your visits.” He observed, when he could.

Hannibal put the bottle of wine back in its place and turned his full attention to where Will stood in the room. He wore a sable suit, fastened and well-tailored as always. His tie was a rich garnet color, and seemed to have a satin sheen to it; it reflected the lick of the flame from the fireplace in the same way his eyes did.

“I felt odd,” Will explained. “Leaving our conversation where we did.”

Hannibal nodded and parted his lips in a simple “Ah.” sound.

He paused, checking over Will’s exterior, no doubt taking in how he still shivered from his walk. He gestured towards the fire.

The suggestion tugged on his heart, his mind and breath catching yet again on the concept that Hannibal cared for him. He rubbed at his arms and watched the fire as if it, too, were as hazardous a concept.

“Will that actually warm me up?” Will asked. He imagined that it would be an interesting way to kill someone- place them in front of a burning fire while their real body was slowly freezing. However, he knew he wasn’t going to freeze. He was inside. Externally, he was safe.

Hannibal tilted his head to think, then shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

Lethargically, Will stepped towards the fire. He didn’t take seat on the couch, but instead placed a hand to the mantle, and leaned on it. It was warm and felt good against his skin- physically tangible or not. Will’s focus drifted in to the flame, and watched the change from the familiar colors of fire, to shades of violet and silver. It was absolutely beautiful.

“I’m sorry… If I frightened you.” Hannibal apologized, suddenly standing directly behind him.

“I’m sorry I got frightened.” Will said, hardly breaking from his trance. “You were only asking questions.”

Hannibal nodded, and let his gaze fall to the same place in the fire that Will found so fascinating. “Some part of me did know that they would upset you, and I did ask them away.” He explained, defending Will’s upset.

Will sighed and let himself turn away from the fire. Hannibal followed his gaze still, until they were looking back into each other’s eyes. Counting the time Hannibal had gifted Will with his name, this had to have been the closest they ever stood together. Will was too close to the mantle already to be able to step away.

“I take it that you _did_ have a demon,” Hannibal stated. “And that is what has caused your interactions with me to be so… conflicted.”

Another sigh, and Will nodded. “Have they been conflicted?”

Will had never admitted that he had been possessed- not out loud, at least. Even just nodding his approval towards the accusation brought on the familiar dizzying wave of anxiety to his psyche. He forced himself through it with more deep breaths and a spot between Hannibal’s eyes to focus on.

Hannibal saw Will’s discomfort, but didn’t give him space like he had been in the past. He held his place and kept his eyes to the color variants in Will’s irises. “You hold a great deal of fear of me; your trust in me teeters on the edge of a cliff you’re not sure you want to test the strength of. And, I am a demon after all.” He explained. “Yet, here I stand. Still staining these halls with my presence.”

Will looked away from him and cleared his throat. Hannibal’s gaze didn’t chase him this time.

“That seems like plenty of proof of conflict.” Hannibal added. His presence seemed to be pressing in even closer. He grew heavier, as if he were physically leaning against Will’s shoulder. “It’s as if you want to punish me for things I have yet to do, but you also know it would be wrong to do that.”

Will stayed quiet. He didn’t have anything to add or argue. Hannibal was right.

“Can you step away from me?” Will suggested, with a shaking and polite voice. He didn’t want it to sound like a command; he was curious to know if Hannibal would follow suggestion.

Hannibal did, with a nod. “Of course.” He said, taking two steps back and correcting his posture.

_Was_ _he leaning on me?_   Will thought. He squinted in his direction.

Hannibal allowed for himself to be observed, almost making a show of it by sinking back his shoulders and puffing out his already broad chest. He waited for Will to physically relax before asking “Would you like to talk about your demon?”

Will went ridged with nerves again, immediately.

This was why he came, but _is this wise?_ He thought. _To discuss my demon with another?_

It could act as a gateway to his weaknesses- he would have to open-up parts of him that were buried to every other living person to share what he’d gone through. Equally, Hannibal may know just what to say to help him clear his mind of phobias that had clung to him for the past decade.

_Will I have another chance like this?_

Will said “Yes.” and Hannibal smiled to him.

“Tell me about them.”

Will swallowed and tried to organize his thoughts. “When I was 15, maybe 16…” He began, but immediately found regret in his choice of starting point.

Hannibal was unsurprisingly patient, and gave Will all the time he needed to formulate. He didn’t rap on any metaphorical window, or drum against any figurative steering wheel. He wanted Will to talk to him when he was ready to do so.

“I’ve always been an anxious person.” Will stated, finally, crossing his arms over his chest. “It made it hard for me to connect with people, and when I did find people to connect with… They always wanted me for the wrong reasons.” He explained. He had wanted to keep eye contact with Hannibal while he spoke- or at the very least, he wanted to keep his eyes on his body- but they dropped to the floor quickly. He couldn’t will them to rise again. “I was a tool for other people to have fun using.”

Hannibal hummed, both with understanding and agreement of Will’s claim. Will paused, expecting him to talk. But he didn’t. Will couldn’t help but note internally, that Jack would have.

“I met my demon on a walk.” He continued. “I now know that he was drawn to me for the same reasons the other people that hurt me were, but at the time it was… close to flattering.”

Will tried not to think about that day at all, but it was still engraved in his mind as if it had happened that morning. In some ways, it was clearer than his memory of that morning.

“He gave me his name the same way you did.” Will added. He unfolded his arms and gestured to the covered wound, as if it were possible that Hannibal had forgotten. He let himself grow quiet.

He didn’t even like making the comparison. He been doing nothing but comparing his experiences with his past demon to this one, but in this moment, it felt wrong.

Again, Hannibal let him pause. He kept his eyes locked to where, if Will were to ever look up from the floor, he would be looking back up into them. Even though Will wasn’t looking, it too much attention for his sensitives to ignore.

Will cleared his throat, and swallowed a sob. “After a particularly bad day, I summoned him.” He said. His teeth ground against each other like they were punishing him for admitting to it.

He wasn’t tricked into his possession. He was lured. He wanted it. He asked for it.

“You wanted power.” Hannibal completed, hoping that his interjection now would pull Will back from the edge of break down, rather than make him feel spoken over.

Will nodded, thankful he didn’t have to admit it in solidarity. “He promised me power.” He said. His voice cracked around another stifled sob. “He promised me vengeance.”

Will didn’t want to cry in front of Hannibal again, but it hurt. The memory felt like chains rubbing his skin raw. Everything about his last possession was agony. His last _clear_ childhood memory was of himself bleeding out while pressed to a wall, a seeming man _climbing_ inside of his body like he was nothing but a shell. The rest were fragments- glitches of blood rich darkness and suffering.

“I was 22 when I got my life back.”

Hannibal inhaled sharply, as if he were shocked. Will’s eyes wavered up his body to see that he looked shocked, too.

_Does that honestly bother him? Why would that bother him?_

“That is a long time to not have yourself.” Hannibal said, as if answering Will’s unspoken question. Will hoped that didn’t mean that Hannibal could read his mind.

Hannibal gripped at the sleeves of his suit jacket, just as he did the first day he and Will met. Now Will was able to identify it as a nervous gesture. Hannibal was thinking of something he wanted to be cautious about.

“Did you exorcise him?” He asked.

It was Will’s turn to inhale sharply. “I don’t exorcise.” He explained. A tense silence followed the claim that effected even the crackle of the fire. “I think I destroy.” He continued. “There isn’t somewhere I send spirits. I didn’t send…Matthew anywhere. I obliterated him.”

Hannibal’s chin lifted in an involuntary claim of dominance at the mention of the other demon’s name, and Will felt himself do the same. Will couldn’t recall a time he’d used his demon’s name since summoning him, and for a moment he imagined him sweeping out of the darkness. He wondered if Hannibal would fight for him, and then scolded himself for the thought.

“No outside help, no biblical verses- Just a name.” Will continued. “That’s when I learned I could do it.”

Hannibal nodded, but Will could tell he was edgy about the topic. Will couldn’t blame him.

“You are very strong to be able to do that, at such a young age. You would have been strong to do it now.” Hannibal complimented. He had that glowing smile again that made Will believe it, and made Will glow himself.

Hannibal started back towards the fireplace, pressing back into Will’s personal space. Will watched him move with caution, but felt no need to tell him to step away again.

“Is that why you find so much peace here?” Hannibal asked. He averted his eyes and Will knew it was to insure his comfort. He also expected them to snap up to his attention any moment now, and reel him in to a hypnotic trap.

“I lived in this place for 6 years, and _you know_ how time moves here.” Will explained as a form of agreement. “Sometimes it feels better than the real world.”

Will tried to say it with a jovial lightness that implied he was joking, but his voice fell through. It wasn’t a joke- it was true.

“Most of the time it feels better than the real world.” He corrected.

Hannibal shrugged the corners of his mouth and shook his head. “This world is real.” He said. “And, the time you spent here explains your empathy with us. And with spirits.”

“I know what it’s like to be stuck here.” Will agreed. “To be alone and unheard.”

“Without a body.” Hannibal added. His tone was so hollow it nearly echoed.

Will knew better than to feed the comment, even if he did understand.

After a moment of unshared devising, Hannibal went ahead with another observation he had of Will. “You’re afraid it will happen again.” He said.

As Will predicted, his eyes snapped up to catch Will’s gaze. Will felt himself smile even though the statement made him feel like breaking.

Will nodded and tried to fight back the walls of tears building in his eyes. He looked manic, smiling and crying like his mind couldn’t decide what it was supposed to feel.

“But I’m still here, right?” He snapped, mostly at himself. “Maybe I want it to happen again.”

“Or…” Hannibal replied, far too quickly. His hand left his side and cupped gently at Will’s cheek. “Maybe you still want the power.”

His touch was _more_ than comforting, and Will didn’t dare pull from it. Will stood still, with his lips softly parted in surprise, even as Hannibal moved the close the limited distance between them.

Will was sure Hannibal wasn’t moving as slowly as his mind was seeing things, but he felt like he had so much time to turn from him. He had so much time to deny him.

When Will could all but taste the flavor of Hannibal’s breath as it rolled from his lips on to his own, Hannibal hesitated and started to pull himself away. Will should have felt relief. Instead, it was Will that willed himself forward until his and Hannibal’s lips crashed together.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal chooses a new host.

Will’s entirety was helpless to the kiss. He felt rooted in it. Hannibal kept it caste, but Will wanted more. He lifted to it and pressed their bodies closer together, opening his mouth as an invitation.

The touch of Hannibal’s lips was soft, but certain. His hand naturally slid from Will’s cheek to the back of his neck, holding him in place as he allowed himself to pull away. He smiled and tilted his head; amusement seeming to radiate from within him, making Will’s stomach knot up in suppressed laughter.

“That was bold, Will.”

As Hannibal pulled away, Will felt his own hands take hold of Hannibal’s sides, kneading into his clothes with a conscious want to be closer to them. The loss of the touch of his lips was dizzying.

“Please.” Will heard himself whisper, squeezing tighter at Hannibal’s hips. “Again.”

Hannibal swept Will’s lips back up, catching his upper-lip in his own and closing on it. Will could feel Hannibal teeth and tongue against his lip; teasing, suggesting the kiss could be deeper but not taking the steps necessary to make it so.

Again, Will raked his fingers into Hannibal’s sides. The flesh above his hips was soft to the touch, squishing against Will’s hold until his fingertips met with the firm frame beneath. Hannibal responded by rocking his hips forward, and moving his free hand up the small of Will’s back.

Will was pressed to him in every way, impossibly tight to his body, and _still_ Hannibal kept his kiss too light. As one kiss turned into four, teeth and tongue still feather-light against Will’s lip, Will was ready to beg for it. He wanted to be kissed firmly and endlessly.

In another _bold_ move, Will let himself fall away from Hannibal’s lips.

“Hannibal.” He moaned. The sound wasn’t intentional, and he wondered if the call of his name brought the same blush to Hannibal’s cheeks as it had before. His throat felt tight, dangerously exposed to the room, but he still found himself craving what it might feel like to have Hannibal’s lips on it.

His teeth on it.

More of him in every way.

_This is bad._

Hannibal’s hand moved from the nape of Will’s neck, up into the curls against the back of his skull. He took one step forward, kicking Will off balance, and letting him fall with control into the mantle. Air compressed from Will lungs in huff that Hannibal stole from him, replanting his lips on Will’s stubble-enhanced skin.

Will got what he wanted; the velvet of Hannibal’s tongue slid against his own, brushing under his teeth. The kiss felt immediately different than the others, not having the same uplifting sense. Something like an electric current surged through the roots of Will’s bones, the feeling tiptoeing into what was painful.

It didn’t make him want to pull away, though. It didn’t make him want it to stop. If anything, it only fueled his need to have Hannibal closer. He let himself cave into him, feeling Hannibal’s chest rumble against him as if he were moaning too.

Will wasn’t sure when he had started, but both of Hannibal’s hands were making small and comforting circles against his back. He swayed his hips, swaying the two of them, as if they were locked in dance.

It felt incredible to be wrapped up in him, to move with him. Will felt as though he was coming undone and it felt _good_. The only sound in the room was the cracking of the fire and the wet cuff of their mouths. In that moment, Will couldn’t imagine better music to have playing. He loved this. He felt better than he had in years.

Will’s hands finally left the comfort he found in Hannibal’s hips, and slid them to his tailbone- catching his index finger one of his belt loops, while the other cupped at the firm cheek of his ass.

Hannibal didn’t hesitate in changing their setting. Will felt the mantle dissipate from behind his spine, and felt the heat of the fire die. He opened his eyes to see how things changed but didn’t halt their kissing.

The room was now suspended darkness, as if they were standing in space. The lighting on them was at a cooler temperature than what the fire had offered, causing the silver flecks of Hannibal’s hair to sparkle. But there was no source for it; it was as if they had been cut free of one world, and pasted into this new one.

Of course, that wasn’t far off from what _was_ occurring. This place didn’t exist. It thrived within the perimeter their combined minds could create, and only those perimeters.

Hannibal fumbled to take another step forward, and Will felt cool wood come up against his calves. Hannibal released his hold on him, arms spread out wide at his sides as if he were adorned with wings. Will’s balance was compromised and he fell backwards, having grown too dependent on Hannibal’s grasp for his own stability.

The fall felt long, and took the wind from him. He struck down on the forgiving bounce of a navy, silk-clad mattress, but felt no comfort from it. His head spun as if he were tumbling backwards into the void that made up the room. His ears rang and he felt he may vomit, with bright white balloons of light exploding behind his eyes.

“Nngh, what…” Will mumbled. His now empty hands came to clutch at his face, favoring his eyes that were threatening to expand out from his skull. “What did you do to me?”

He felt Hannibal’s weight disturb the mattress, then move to lay on top of him. The pressure of his body on his hips cut the nausea. Will felt like he could breathe normally again, but he wasn’t completely free from it. He was still scared.

Hannibal kissed the backs of his hands until Will felt like he could pull them away, then he kissed against his lips again.

“Better?” Hannibal asked, hardly pulling his lips from Will’s to do so. He was being unbelievably gentle, as if Will were something fragile.

For a moment, the memory of Will’s demon throwing him to a wall like a rag doll flashed in his mind. This was so different- such a careful and kind experience in comparison.

Will did feel better, and the longer Hannibal stayed pressed to him, the better he felt. Hannibal moved on to kissing along Will’s jawline, and undoing his shirt one button at a time. He had removed all Will’s other upper-outerwear just by willing it off Will’s body, but this he seemed to want to do himself.

Will was able to look at him and really see him again, instead of having his vision disrupted by popping white spheres. Hannibal had removed his own jacket, but left on his vest. The white shirt he wore beneath it was thin enough to expose the color of his skin through the fabric.

Absentmindedly, Will reached out and touched his arm. It had the same comforting softness and heat that he had found in Hannibal’s hips, and Will wasn’t willing to let go.

Hannibal began to drop his kisses with each button he unfastened, taking the time to pull part Will’s shirt and expose his rapidly pinking skin. He dragged his canine down the skin near Will’s left nipple, and Will responded with twisting hips and a wide-open mouth.

Hannibal smiled against him before coming back up to Will’s face. Another kiss, another surge of aching electricity, another moan fumbling over Will’s lips.

Hannibal finished unbuttoning Will’s shirt and allowed it to fall from his form. He stood and moved to Will’s ankles at the foot of the bed, lifting his legs for him and removing his shoes- eventually his pants. Will arched his hips to aid him, but couldn’t bring himself to do much else.

Will didn’t feel as he were being stripped of clothes, but like he was being changed physically- like he was in a dream and his brain couldn’t wrap around the concept of what it felt to have clothing removed from tingling legs.

When Hannibal’s hands came off his body the second time, the split moment it took Hannibal to cast Will’s clothing aside, Will felt as if he were dropping through the solid mattress again. His chest tightened, causing him to wheeze and choke on nothing but air.

“Will.” Hannibal cooed, as he joined Will on the bed again. “ _Breathe._ ”

Hannibal kissed him and brought to him immediate comfort. Will could feel the cool buttons of Hannibal’s clothing pressing against his skin, and became aware of just how exposed he was- completely naked, erection pressing into the thigh of a fully clothed man.

 _Not a man._ He reminded himself.

Will traced down the lines of Hannibal’s body, letting the fabric of his shirt bunch and pull on his fingertips. He felt over the gentle round of Hannibal’s stomach, and to the v of his hips.

He wondered how much of this was truly psychical for Hannibal. He wondered if Hannibal was just putting on a show for him, or if this was for his own benefit too. An open-palmed grope at the throbbing bulge in Hannibal’s pants answered his curiosity.

Hannibal moaned softly, pulling his lips off Will and hanging his head into the curve of his neck. His breath was heavy, rolling off Will’s skin. He pressed his teeth into Will’s collar; it was playful, but felt like a punishment- a warning to just let Hannibal continue, and to keep his hands to himself.

Hannibal shifted against him, with Will ignoring his warning and continuing to massage his hand into his groin. He kissed from his neck to his chest, gasping against Will’s skin as he went, until Will could no longer reach where he needed to.

The heat of Hannibal’s lips closed on the head of Will’s cock, and Will issued a tight, high sob into the room. His fingers fisted up in Hannibal’s hair, willing Hannibal to swallow him. Hannibal obeyed.

Will was destitute to the skill of Hannibal’s tongue and the wet heat of his mouth, but Hannibal didn’t stay long. His head snapped back, lips popping obscenely as they left the skin on skin contact.

Will gasped. The visual alone, of Hannibal’s mouth waiting over his leaking cock, was enough to make the blush on his cheeks burn. He moved to cover his face, and Hannibal moved from the bed yet again.

Hannibal began removing the rest of his clothes in a slow and methodical manner. The sick feelings started to sink into Will again, sweeping him up in heavy waves of nausea that made the mattress feel as though it was rocking. He turned his face from his hands, and tried to watch Hannibal undress through the painful white bursts that had returned to his vision.

When Hannibal was done, he brought his hand to trace along the bone of Will’s hip. He kept his touch light, until Will’s stability returned to him. He dipped his hand down to the inside of Will’s thigh and massaged the meat of it.

“Better?” He asked, in the same tone he had before.

_He doesn’t want me to… Hurt._

_What did he do to me?_

Will nodded, and Hannibal smiled. He was still afraid of what was to come, but in this moment, he convinced himself that it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except for how good it felt to have Hannibal touch him.

Hannibal climbed back on the bed and straddled Will’s hips. He ground himself back, his cock rubbing against Will’s belly and leaving a slick line of pre-come as he moved. He pinned both of Will’s hands to the mattress, squeezing tightly at his writs, deliberately waiting until Will was moaning for him before letting them go again.

Hannibal worked himself up until both he and Will were breathing with the same passion. Then, he took Will’s cock in his hand and slowly, _slowly_ , guided it inside of him. He felt slick and stretched, and for a moment Will thought of thanking God for giving him the ability to do this- _be here_.

But, God had nothing to do with this. Hannibal was the one in control of all of this. He made himself feel this perfect, and he was _perfect_.

Will’s breath caught with each inch, drowning in the immediate euphoria of it. Hannibal’s head was back, his jaw slack- he seemed to be getting a matching thrill from the feeling of Will inside of him.

Will let himself sink further and further into the pleasure, until he was all but lost to it. He tipped his head back until he felt swallowed by silk. Hannibal rode him with a hand on his neck and a hand on his chest, curiously exploring his flesh with an open palm.

The thick horizontal stripe that nearly divided Will in two was enough to give Hannibal’s fingers pause. The scar was only visible in the in-between, and was something that Will went out of his way to avoid seeing. It was where his last demon had cut him, and used to climb inside. The idea of it being sighted now made him grimace.

However, Hannibal’s fingertips ran along it like it was poetry- as if he were reading him. Will lifted his head so that he could watch Hannibal go, and felt regret pierce him immediately.

Hannibal wasn’t peaceful. His eyes snapped to Will’s face, fingertips prodding against the starting divot of Will’s old seam. He looked hungry, predatory, greedy… _Possessive_. It wasn’t like reading poetry anymore.

It was then that Will had realized with this was- what Hannibal _had done_. It had explained why it was that he felt ill when Hannibal had stopped touching him, and why his body now craved to _be touched_. It explained why Hannibal had been so hesitant about kissing him properly in the beginning, and why he had waited for Will to act like he needed it.

He was prepping him. He had marked him.

He was going to possess him.

A hard knot formed at the base of Will’s throat, and Will tried to cough it free.

Hannibal’s hand bolted from his side- suddenly charcoal in color, long and clawed. It was a weapon, posed for attack. He kept moving his hips while his eyes locked with Will’s, as if he were waiting for something else to happen.

Will didn’t expect it, but he didn’t have any more fear to mull through. Even with all the why’s and worries that had been nagging at the back of his head since they started this, this explanation of possession seemed to settle them to a place of compliance.

He thought about all he would lose if he let this happen, and tried to think if he could stop it. He wondered who Hannibal would take as a sacrifice and how long he’d have to find one. He wondered what would happen if he couldn’t find one, and he felt himself worry about Hannibal’s safety.

And there it was: _Hannibal’s safety_. That was priority in his mind at this moment, with Hannibal posed above him and ready to spill his guts. He realized that he could stop this if I wanted to- he could put a hand to Hannibal’s chest or cheek, and expel him- but he didn’t want to.

Will wanted to leave that to some kind of demon magic, but he never felt this way about his last demon. And, he did feel this way about Hannibal before. If he hadn’t felt protective of him, Hannibal would already be gone. If he didn’t care about him, he would have told Jack what he was.

Will started to cry, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He let himself make peace with this. He kept his eyes on Hannibal and nodded a silent approval. Then, Will watched the power and pride drain from Hannibal’s expression.

The heaving of his chest settled and he lowered his arm. Hannibal brought his hand to Will’s stomach. He touched the scar on Will’s belly with the same intimate curiosity as before, save for the hazardous gaze. The touch was thoughtful. Something had changed.

With a squeeze of his own thighs, Hannibal leaned and pulled Will over on top of him. He felt down the solid heat of his back and coaxed Will to move against him. Will was hesitant, confused, but he rolled with the commands.

Hannibal turned into his neck, groaning softly and whispering words out of Will’s language and vocabulary. He sounded like he was apologizing.

Will had always felt of himself as something that was broken. In that moment, Will had never felt more complete. They came together, connected, with Will’s face nuzzled into Hannibal’s chest hair. Hannibal’s hand closed over his back and held him there while they caught their breath.

Suddenly, too soon, Will found himself back against the fireplace. He was fully clothed, but still bundled in Hannibal’s arms.

“I think it might be time for you to leave.” Hannibal considered out loud.

Will looked up to him, the boarders of his being still trembling with shock. He didn’t understand why things- _how things-_ had happened to get him here.

“Hannibal, I…”

Before he could ask anything, and before he could _say_ anything, Hannibal took them back to the playroom and disappeared.

\--

Will brought himself back to the real world slowly. He waited around for a while, and considered searching deeper in the home for the demon. He knew he was still there, somewhere.

However, in honor of all the space Hannibal had given him before, Will opted to just drift away.

He came to, laying on the playroom floor. His knees were propped upright and eased apart. Through them, he could see that the playroom door was open. Through them, he could see Freddie sitting crisscross with pen in hand, and camera waiting.

Will knew he should have been outraged, or even surprised by her presence, but he wasn’t. The post-coital lull that ensnared his mind didn’t let him get angry. He still felt so good and peaceful- too much to let her pull him down.

“Do you smoke?” He asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

He could tell that the causal tone in his voice caught Freddie off-guard. She was ready to fight off his predicted agitation and, now that there wasn’t any to fight, she felt lost.

“Margot does.” She answered. “Found her stash in the air vent in the bathroom.”

Will thought of how many houses he’d been in, and how he’d never snooped like that. He wondered what had happened in Freddie’s life to allow her to feel that kind of prying was okay. He wondered if she would have been Hannibal’s sacrifice, and if she would have even counted.

Will nodded and brought himself to his feet. Freddie mirrored his actions, looking as if she was ready to run. Will still had no interest in being belligerent with her, and he knew she could probably out do him verbally if he did.

“I’ll buy her a new pack.” Will said in a monotone hum. He pushed past her in the doorway, and started looking for the bathroom.

\--

Freddie followed him outside after he retrieved his newly claimed cigarettes. He didn’t smoke much anymore, but he had smoked _plenty_ after expelling his demon. He was sure it was the familiarity that was calling him back to the habit now.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, looking Freddie up and down as he took his first drag. His throat was still accustomed to the burn, which pleasantly surprised him. He made sure to exhale away from Freddie’s face.

“I didn’t follow you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Freddie defended.

Will’s eye widened, then flat-lined. “It… wasn’t.” He said. He paused, expecting a proper explanation from her.

“I came here to get pictures of the home at night.” She claimed. “The front door was unlocked when I got here, and heard noises upstairs. I thought someone had broken in.”

 _Noises. Excellent._ He had already checked in the bathroom, and he hadn’t _physically_ come. That made it easier to for him to formulate his own lie as to why he was here, and what he had been doing. _But if there were noises…_

Freddie gave off a vibe that lead Will to believe she could watch someone die in front of her, and she wouldn’t so much as batt a perfectly applied eyelash. When she crossed her arms, and shrugged her shoulders as a means of shying away from him, it caught him off-guard. He supposed she could be faking the look and, if she was, he had no doubts that she would be a great journalist someday- a secret weapon that any station or newspaper would be lucky to have.

“Did he hurt you?” She asked.

“No, that wasn’t-” Will began. He didn’t know how to explain. He could feel himself blushing, and took another long drag of his cigarette to buy him time.

“I don’t know what he did.” He said, anti-climactically. “I think he helped me.”

He brought himself back to their conversation before they had kissed- about his fears of being re-possessed. He didn’t felt like he had that anymore, having faced it and survived it. He played with the idea that maybe that had been the intention of Hannibal’s actions from the start.

He knew it wasn’t.

Freddie pursed her lips and turned her attention back to him. “Why would a demon do that?” She asked.

Will felt himself go ridged. _How much does she know?_

“I don’t think I told you this was a demon.” He corrected. His tone came out too harsh, making him bite down on his tongue. His bluff was obvious. He didn’t know what she _had_ known, but she certainly knew this tidbit of information now.

Freddie smirked. “Oh, you’re right. My apologies.” He said, again faking sympathy. “Would a _spirit_ do that, then?”

“I have no idea.” Will answered. This time, he was being honest. “He’s… different.” He explained. Another long drag, and he flicked at the end of the filter to drop the ash he had collected on his shortening cigarette. “He’s different than anything I’ve ever come up against.”

“You like him.” Freddie stated. She didn’t sound like she needed any confirmation.

“Yeah, but that isn’t all _that_ different.” Will explained, groaning with displeasure in himself. “I always get attached. I’m not made for this work.”

His words drifted away from him. He thought about all the faces he still remembered purging, and how many still haunted his dreams. Hannibal’s face was going to be added into the mix soon. The thought made him queasy, even more so than how he had felt with Hannibal just moments before.

“Jack seems convinced you’re the only one who can do it.” Freddie claimed with seemingly empty intentions.  

Freddie gazed out over the Verger-Bloom’s expansive property. She remained silent until Will had finished his cigarette, and was looking at the pack trying to decide if he wanted to smoke another.

“Do you know what you do?” Freddie asked.

Will sluggishly pulled his focus back to her.

“When you go under, I mean?” She elaborated for him.

Will shrugged and tucked the pack into his jacket pocket. “Jack’s always told me I look like I’m asleep but, mad about it.”

Freddie smiled and laughed. It was sweeter than the sound Will expected from her. “You smile.” She said.

As if acting purely from defiance, Will frowned.

“You smile and you laugh, like you’re with your high school sweetheart.” Freddie continued, studying his forlorn reaction. “Up there,” She said, shrugging her mouth and tilting her head with consideration. “You did a little more than laugh but… I feel it still fits the analogy.”

Will looked away. The only thing keeping the blush of his cheeks was the anger he was finally able to feel for this porcelain woman.

Despite Will’s dismissal, Freddie had more to say. “You claim to not like the work, but really do enjoy yourself.” She accused.

Will coughed loudly to interrupt her reading of his behavior. He knew she just a wanted a story- to get more evidence of the unruly physic and his fury-based habits, but she was about to dig into something Will wasn’t ready to look at.

He already knew Hannibal made him happy. He didn’t need Freddie to add evidence to the bin.

“What do you want from me, Freddie?” He snapped, coldly.

She shrugged. “Nothing.”

Will sighed deeply, and asked for the time. Instead of answering, Freddie fished in her pocket and revealed her car keys.

“You don’t drive, right?” She said. “I’ll take you home, if you want.”

Will nodded solemnly, and let Freddie lead him off the property. He could see sun just starting to rise. He could feel Hannibal back in the playroom.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack tells Will a damaging secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe you all an apology for my terribly late update (does "late" even cut it anymore?). I had some personal issues arise that made it impossible for me to work on this. For those of you who stuck with me through this hiatus of sorts: Thank you. For those of you who personally pushed me and supported me when I needed it: Thank you. I promise I haven't abandoned this fic (I never do) and hope to have it complete very, very soon. Only two chapters to go!

Freddie dropped Will off on the street in front of his apartment building and told him to take care of himself. Will knew she probably didn’t mean it; _take care of yourself_ was just something you said when you left someone who was full of bad choices and a broken spirit. He had asked Freddie not to tell Jack, but he knew there was nothing to keep her from blowing her end of the bargain. Telling Jack would rattle things, and rattling things would give her more drama for her story.

The sun was already turning the sky periwinkle by the time Will found his mattress, and scooted Buster’s energy aside. He fell asleep with a pillow over his head, and dreamed of Hannibal’s lips, Hannibal’s hands, and Hannibal taking him over. When he awoke, he felt empty.

He knew this was just residue of how close he had come to losing himself. His soul was, quite _literally_ , in pieces and that was going to take a while to heal. He knew that this feeling would pass if he could just push through it. Still, thinking about Hannibal and himself becoming one brought a pleasant dizziness to his head. The notion felt like freedom.

It was still early. Everything around him felt as if it were waiting on him, and he couldn’t sleep anymore. He took a shower that was longer than usual, at a heat he felt was deserved, got dressed with more intent than usual, and sat at the edge of his bed.

Will didn’t know what to expect out of the day he had before him. He didn’t know what Jack would be like, what he’d know, or what he’d need to admit to. He didn’t know what talking to Hannibal was going to be like now, or if Hannibal was even going to _let him_ talk.

A hand like ice clutched his chest at the sudden and intrusive thought _. Will Hannibal want to talk to me?_ He swallowed hard and shook his head. The idea of not speaking to Hannibal again made him queasy, and he knew he shouldn’t be feeling like this towards a demon; like he’d miss him. Hannibal wasn’t going to be around forever.

Before he had time to dwell on that reality- the reality that came with the eventual next step of his assignment- he heard his phone vibrate against hardwood. Will supposed that the morning had gotten tired of waiting for him.

He reached for his phone from where it was charging beside his bed to find the screen illuminated with a text from Jack. “Here.” was all it read. It wasn’t nearly enough to feel out Jack’s mood.

Will made his way out of his home with his usual speed, keeping with his usual behavior of not replying to Jack’s text right away. He wanted to reply- his gut bugged him to reply, to check in and see if everything was going to be okay between the two of them.

In the car, he was met with a wall of silence. The backseat was open and empty. It was just Jack, and that didn’t help settle his worry any.

Jack noticed Will check the backseat for Freddie and become wide-eyed. He cleared his throat. “She’s taking the morning off.” He explained.

“Oh.” Will replied, forcibly. _Coward._ He thought.

Will sat in the passenger seat and buckled himself in. He waited, but the car didn’t move. He looked back up at Jack, trying to be nonchalant about his impatience.

Jack was looking back at him with a somber expression, rather than looking out at the road. It made Will jump, to suddenly be met with Jack's gaze when he had expected to be looking at the side of his head.

_Is now the time to ask if everything is okay?_

Jack was the one to look away first, before either of them could say anything. He pulled away from the curb and out into the street. He took the same way he always had when going to the Verger-Bloom home, but Will knew they wouldn’t be arriving there _as usual._ Jack knew something. They were going to have a conversation before they arrived and Jack had been good at arguing and driving.  

After a few minutes, as predicted, Jack pulled over and stalled the engine. He took the keys from the ignition and rested them on his thigh. He kept his eyes forward on the road, and Will let his gaze fall to the fisted hands he had in his lap. He dug his finger nails into his palms and tried to keep from jumping out of his skin.

“You know I know.” Jack said. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, and let his eyes pass on to those of his friend. Will barely looked up, appearing already reprimanded, with eyes wide and glossy. Jack knew he couldn’t let this go.

“Why did you go to the location on your own?”

Will scrunched his nose and shook his head. “Did you _scold_ Freddie, too?”

Jack’s hand came down against the steering wheel with a loud thud. His outrage escaped through the contact, releasing his want to physically lash out in the direction of Will. His tone remained raised.

“My _job_ doesn’t require me to trust Freddie.” Jack explained. “Just _you_.” He gulped and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to yell at Will. He knew yelling would just close him off, and make him more distant than he had already been. He needed answers more than he needed to make Will realize he had done wrong. “ _Why_ did you go?” He repeated.

Will inhaled deeply, exhaling with a shake of his lungs. Jack could see that he was running his tongue over his teeth, pushing it against the backs of his lips while he mulled over his answer.

“I don’t know, Jack.” Will said, seeming to become further defeated as he did. “I just wanted to talk to him.”

Jack focused back out on to the street, allowing Will to breathe away from direct eye-contact. His gut was tight and nervous. He hadn’t thrown up from stress since he was young, but he couldn’t rule out that possibility completely. He wanted to tear apart the inside of his car.

“To _talk_ to him?” Jack asked when he could, craving the confirmation as if he were the one to have suggested it.

Will nodded. He wondered how much Freddie had revealed, and how much he could get away with dancing around. He resented her even more for getting to relax her day way. She was probably sipping at a cup of coffee, and catching up with friends.

After a moment of stressed contemplation, Jack spoke again. “Did you feel forced there?”

Will’s eyebrows raised. He almost laughed from climbing nerves, but was glad he didn’t. “No?”

His answer didn’t sound confident because he wasn’t expecting that kind of question.

“Compelled to walk there?” Jack continued, as if the word exchange changed the meaning of the question. “As if something were guiding you back to it?”

Will’s jaw fell softly in surprise. “I just had questions.” Will skated. “Questions I knew only he could answer for me and-”

“They couldn’t wait?” Jack interrupted. His unruly emotions had boiled back under his skin. He clenched his fists over his steering wheel as if he were wringing it clear of water.

“No.” Will replied. “I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”

Will’s heart was still rattling around in his chest. This was different than just being upset with Will for breaking the unwritten rules they had, or sneaking around behind his back. Jack's anger wasn’t pulling from frustration and betrayal- it was pulling from fear.

“Jack,” Will asked with careful attention to create an unshaken voice. “What’s going on?”

Jack took a moment to gather his words. He popped his jaw as he resisted the urge to grind his teeth together.

“I know how stressed this case has made you.” He began. “And, when we found out, Freddie and I both agreed it was best that we keep it from you until was necessary to tell you.”

Will’s expression fell.

“It’s a demon, Will.”

Will felt like the air had been struck from him. It felt hypocritical to be so affronted, so backhanded, by something he already knew but, _how could Jack know and keep this from me?_

“I’m so accustomed to being able to rely on you that I didn’t see the signs right away.” Jack continued, unaware of how close to blowing up he had just made Will. “I didn’t check my recordings right away, I didn’t do my research.”

Jack stopped and turned to look Will back in the eye. Will was close to tears, shredded by what Jack assumed was fear. Will was ready to strike him.

“And now I need you to tell me that you’re okay, and that you didn’t wander back to site because you _had_ to.”

Will blinked to clear the rage from his eyes, and felt a single tear roll down his cheek. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?” He said, focusing on what he felt was more important now. He had already answered Jack’s question anyway; it was his turn to receive answers.

“We didn’t want to put any more pressure on you than what you already put on yourself.” Jack excused.

Will scoffed. “ _We_?”

“Ms. Lounds and myself.” Jack explained, nodding along with the syllables he made as if it helped sell his case.

“Since when are you a _we_?” Will snapped. “Freddie doesn’t know the first thing about me, or this practice. Her feelings of what is right and wrong-”

Jack waved his hand over the steering wheel in a cutting motion. “We just thought this was what was best for you.” He said, as if it were the final word on the matter.

Will let himself grow quiet again, but he wasn’t through discussing this. His heart felt lodged in his throat. He thought he might choke.

_When Freddie called Hannibal a demon… she knew. She was trying to trigger a reaction out of me, not taking her best guess at what creature could have me this riled up._

“Do you know how _dangerous_ it is to speak to a demon?” Will said, in a hiss. The hypocrisy in the statement gnawed the back of his skull, but he pressed that way. He wanted to _know_ that Jack knew what he was risking, in the same way Will knew.

“Yes.” Jack replied. “That’s why I’m telling you now.”

He seemed sincere, but the math didn’t add up. _He only cares now that he thinks I’ve gotten too close._ Will concluded.

“How many times have you visited _it_ without us?” Jack asked. It was a new question, technically, but it felt painfully repetitive coming from someone Will knew was only listening for what he wanted to hear.

“Just the once.” Will said. “How long would you have let this go if you hadn’t found out I went there?”

Jack, finally, looked hurt. He looked almost shocked that Will felt the need to ask such a thing.

“Until I was ready to clean him out?” Will continued, seizing the moment. “Would you have let me exorcise him without full knowledge of what he could _do_ to me?”

Will’s voice started to raise again, trembling at the ends of his statements.

“I would have spoken up before that.” Jack defended. “Give me some credit.”

Again, Will scoffed with disbelief. He let himself sink back in his seat. Jack did the same, with a heavy sigh.

After a moment, Jack spoke again. The air of the car was still stiff, but neither of them had nerves building towers in their chest anymore. They were calm enough to speak civilly, they thought.

“I know you’re not in a place where you want to trust me right now.” Jack admitted. “I should have told you.”

Will looked over it him, keeping his gaze low and unfocused. He didn’t speak or make any notion that he had the intended to.

“Please, Will.” Jack begged, in a soft voice that had made Will open-up for him in the past. “Are you in trouble?”

 “No, Jack.” Will stated, simply, mimicking the same tone Jack was delivering for him. He didn’t feel _open_ or any less angry with Jack. In that moment, he could easily say that he hated Jack, but he knew that cycling this conversation wouldn’t bring him any peace. “I’ve never felt unsafe there.”

“Even with all your episodes?” Jack prodded.

Will shrugged. “Unrelated.”

Jack audibly hummed, and furrowed his brow with uncertainty. “How can they be unrelated?”

“They had to do with topics of conversation, not by threat brought on by his presence.” Will explained as officially and unemotionally as he could. It wasn’t untrue. Hannibal had always treated him kindly when he accidentally triggered something toxic within him. He was always patient and accepting.

“Topics _it_ brought up?” Jack asked.

“No.” Will replied, dryly.

Jack paused again. Will knew what question was coming next.

“What topics?”

_Why can’t you just trust me?_

When Will didn’t answer, Jack turned his body towards him as best he could with the seat's restraints. “Will.” He called, as if the patronizing sound of his name would cause him to finally spill his guts.

“It’s not important.” Will snapped. “What is important, is the fact that he’s never threatened me.”

_He gave me breaks when you didn’t. He trusts my answers. He lets me drop things when I want to. He-_

“Do you like him?” Jack asked.

Will swallowed hard, in lieu of an answer. He had told Freddie that he did, but telling Jack was different. Jack had never been fond Will’s attachment to spirits, and Will didn’t know that Freddie knew everything about who Hannibal was. Admitting vocally this now made his throat sticky.

“Yes.”

Jack’s hand came down on the steering wheel again, this time causing his rickety car to rattle.

“Jack, he’s never hurt the family.” Will tried to defend.

“He’s a demon, Will. He will hurt the family. He’s psychologically torturing them, posing as a poltergeist, hiding his true self from you- He’s dangerous.” Jack lectured.

Will hung his head.

“I can tolerate your sympathy for ghost children, and your dog hoarding but this is-”

“They have feelings, just like you and me.” Will explained, interrupting and keeping eye contact with his lap. “They all do. Ones that came from people, ones that come from incantations, ones that come from _god_ knows where. You make me come in, and you make them trust me.”

Will’s voice caught as he fought back a sob. It always stung, but applying this concept to Hannibal stung more than usual. He liked him _more than usual_ and the longer that truth sat with him, the heavier this all felt.

“And then you make me hurt them.”

“Unacceptable, Will.” Jack growled. “Pick this fight when it’s something you should care about.”

For the second time, their argument lulled into silence. Will bit back tears, and Jack tried to keep his rage controlled.

“Are we doing this today?” Will asked, when he couldn’t stomach the tension anymore.

Jack muttered something to himself, and took the keys off his thigh. “I’m going to take you back home, is what I’m going to do.”

Jack started the car, and Will watched him with a dropped jaw. Jack tried to ignore his shocked expression, but found himself scoffing before he had pulled back into traffic.

“Don’t give me that, Will.” Jack sighed. “You are obviously too close to this.”

“So, what? You’re going to take him out yourself?” Will questioned, with lack of faith. Will was tempted to take the steering wheel and run them up on the curb, but he didn’t want to risk hurting either of them.

Jack nodded. “It’s been awhile, but this isn’t my first demon. I know what to do.”

Will wanted to fight more, he wanted to argue, but upon realizing what he was fighting for the position to do made him take a step back.

_Maybe Jack can just purge him from the house. Maybe Hannibal doesn’t have to die._

He physically choked against the thought.

“I just want you to go home, and get some rest.” Jack explained, worrying about the way Will was suddenly keeping to himself. “I won’t take anymore clients for a few weeks and- of course, you’ll still get paid for this one.”

Will hid his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees and turning into himself with a wish to disappear.

“Do you…” Jack started, drawing himself out until Will’s attention was turning back his way. “Do you know anything about him that might help me?”

“No.” Will said, realizing that it was a lie. Under his sleeve, under a loose wrap of gauze, he had a very useful tool for traditional exorcism. Giving that information to Jack, however, was the very last thing on his mind. He was going to have to gain that himself.

“Okay. That’s okay.” Jack said.

He sounded just a little disappointed in his partner. Will knew he was probably wondering how it was he and _the demon_ had been talking all this time, without exchanging the very basics one needed for normal conversation. Will didn’t care that he was wondering.

\--

Will scratched his fingertips over the bony-top of Winston’s head. He sat in front of where Will sat on his couch, panting-formed smile on his face. His eyes closed with the simple pleasure of feeling Will’s presence, and that made Will feel okay for just a moment. Then, as if punishing him for feeling anything close to good, his heart twanged tightly over the thought of Hannibal fighting for his freedom, while he lazed around and pet a ghost.

When Jack had dropped him off at home, it had a sickening sense of Déjà vu. He waited for Will to get to the door of his building, then called out “Take care of yourself.” just as Freddie had. Will crawled upstairs, found Buster on his bed, and laid his head down beside him.

He didn’t dream of Hannibal in the same way as he had before, he did dream of him. The story was too scattered by the time he woke up to make any sense of what his subconscious had painted for him, but he remembered seeing Hannibal.

He checked his phone for any updates, and the last thing from Jack still read “Here.”

Later, Freddie texted him with a simple "Sorry." Will didn't reply.

Will didn’t start moving around again until late into the afternoon. He tried to cook for himself but lost the motivation, and found himself looking for a nap on the couch. He had stayed there, wide awake, until the loss of the sun made his apartment pitch black.

“ _Take care of yourself_.” Will mocked, speaking to Winston.

Winston was always ready to hear him out. Big smile on his face, calm demeanor, no-judgment; Winston was a good dog.

Will hadn’t found Winston on a job, but out on the road. It was the first time, to his knowledge, he had ever met an animal that was taken by the street. Winston was scared, like most spirits are when Will first encountered them. He had turned himself into a mat of branches and litter, and scraped the ground as he moved through the shadows. Will pulled a side to help him and, even though he couldn’t get him to drop his guard, he chose to take him home.

Will lived with the thicket nightmare for a week or so, before Winston relaxed around him enough to shed his fear and become a dog again. Now, he was just a good dog.

It wasn’t that he expected that kind of care from Jack. He knew he was being unreasonable and deliberately nitpicky of Jack’s behavior; Jack had never been that kind of friend, and he didn’t want any comforting from Jack, Will just had never really had that kind of person in his life. He had never had someone you could just _be with_ and be okay, someone that would take their time with you and let you be yourself at your own pace.

Winston was great, but after having _that_ with Hannibal, he was growing resentful; jealous of his soon-to-be-past-self for having a _someone_.

Another shot of pain cut through his chest, and he fought to not cry. He moved his hand from the top of Winston’s head, to behind his ear for better leverage in his scratching. He wanted to tell Winston he was a good boy for putting up with mood. Digby and Buster were away in his room, avoiding his energy as they had been. He didn’t blame them, but it allowed Winston climb the favorites latter.

His phone buzzed and his body tensed up again. A shot of heart pain, the shakes, loss of breath… His phone had slipped between the cushions of his couch beside him, and pulling it free brought an unbearable suspense to the room. He breathed deep and checked the push notification on his lock screen.   

\- No luck today. Trying again tomorrow. I hope you’re sleeping. 

Will’s eyes moved to the time- it was only 11:40pm, but that meant Jack had to have been there longer for 12 hours. The thought made Will smirk. He realized he was proud of Hannibal for putting up a fight. Then, the thought of Hannibal tired and beat made the pride fade away.

_This isn’t fair._

“Jack was right, I need a break.” Will mused out loud, as a way to try and convince himself. “I should stay away.”

Winston leaned forward and rested his head on Will’s knee, as a reminder to continue petting him. Will obeyed the command, gently stroking the lines on Winston’s neck- waiting for it to have the settling affect it usually did.

“If I try and go see him…” Will continued, after a beat. “Are you going to try and stop me?” He asked. He didn’t expect Winston to answer of course, but a sigh would be enough to convince him to stay home for another hour. A sigh, or the whale eyes of a stressed animal- He just wanted someone to tell him _don't_.

Winston didn’t sigh, though. He looked up at Will for a moment, then pulled his head from his knee. He strut from Will’s grasp and lead himself into Will’s bedroom, with the others. Alone in his front room, he wondered if his emotions had finally become too much for Winston.

However, without him there, there _was_ nothing able to stop him from grabbing his coat and heading to his front door.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will says goodbye.

The outside of the Verger-Bloom home had looked as it always did- wealthy and stoic. The inside, however, looked as if it had been burglarized. Will had never seen it like this, with broken lighting fixtures, upturned furniture, and rolling wallpaper. Forget burglary, it looked as if the interior had been struck by a tornado.

Will felt a brief pause of joy over the concept of Hannibal putting up such a fight, and Jack struggling through his afternoon. It was devoured by the thought of how much this must have all hurt; a scene like this didn’t spawn from slight irritations.

_He didn’t even get a warning._

Will skipped through the guilt and made his way up to the room he and Hannibal had met in. The walk felt long; longer than what it had taken him to get there in the past, and longer than it had taken him to get to the property. He kept expecting the sun to rise on him and for him to run out of time. The dread was making him sick but he could feel Hannibal’s presence following him. The closer Hannibal’s energy got to him, the more okay he felt. However, the more comfortable he felt, the larger the waves of fear hit him. He wasn’t sure that Hannibal would be willing to even let him in, much less uphold the way their relationship had been functioning. Things being _okay_ felt wrong, somehow.

To no surprise, the drop felt just as slow as the rest of his world was moving. Everything was so drawn out and numb. What did surprise him, was the feeling of blankets being swirled around his legs, inching up them until they covered the entirety of his lower half. Gentle fingers followed, pressed against his back and beginning to trace the blade of his exposed shoulder as everything came to be solid around him.

Will was naked and back in Hannibal’s bed, in the same suspended bedroom as before. Hannibal laid beside him, reclined in his pillows and looking up at Will with exhausted adoration.

Will found himself chuckling. “Is this you or me?”

Hannibal drew his hand from Will’s back and tucked it behind his own head. He looked as if he has been sleepless for weeks, with dark circles under his eyes and cheeks that seemed hollowed.

Hannibal smiled at Will, but seemed solemn. “It’s interesting that you have to ask.” He replied.

“It can’t be that interesting.” Will grumbled. He let himself tip back, taking a hand to Hannibal’s chest. He exercised the same caution he would use when dealing with a wild animal out of fear of being bitten, only the fear didn’t come from risk of being hurt; Will was afraid moving too quickly would make Hannibal leave him again.

_You’re sick._

When Hannibal’s body didn’t tense beneath his touch, Will completed the tip of his spine and allowed himself rest against Hannibal’s chest; one hand cupping at his pectoral, and the other scrunched beneath his own chin. He huddled into his side.

“This _was_ robbed from me the last time I attempted it.” Will explained. “It wouldn’t be that strange of my subconscious to take us back here.”

“ _Robbed_?” Hannibal said, drawing attention to Will’s choice in words.

Will could have said he had been interrupted, or that he hadn’t been fully satisfied with their last encounter, but the word _robbed_ felt more honest to him. That was telling, for the both of them.

“Yeah.” Will answered, nodding his head against Hannibal’s flesh. Hannibal could feel his lips move against him as he spoke.

The energy they shared lulled into something peaceful. Will’s throat was still full of knots, but threading fingers through Hannibal’s chest hair allowed him to take breaths.

“You didn’t tell him my name.” Hannibal observed, just as the silence began to hum around them.

“Of course not.” Will answered, too quickly. “It wasn’t mine to give.”

“Thank you.” Hannibal said. His voice almost sounded as if it were breaking, as if he may open up into tears.

Hannibal turned his shoulders towards Will and moved his hand to his back. He pulled him into himself with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. They were both nude beneath the sheets and, although they had been touching before, the press of Hannibal’s hip against Will’s groin made him shudder. He rolled his face downwards, pressing half parted lips against Hannibal’s skin in a non-suggestive way; it was simply an impulsive move to feel _more_ of him.

“You’re making a habit of late visits.” Hannibal said, letting the subject change. “Don’t you know, creatures like me draw their strength from the night?”

Will wondered if Hannibal couldn’t stand the silence, but Will didn’t speak to help break it. He just wanted to lay here. He just wanted to have more of this, as much as he could.

“This is goodbye, isn’t it?” Hannibal continued.

Will opened his mouth in a sob, nearly wincing in response to the question. Hannibal stated it as if it were nothing, and it hurt.

“You’re the one that showed Jack what you are.” He scolded. “’Sped up the process.”

It was Hannibal’s turn to fall silent. He was fully aware of what he had done and the consequences of it. Jack’s sensors had been juvenile and would have been easy to fool, but he had thought it would be more interesting to choose to reveal himself. Especially after learning that Will had no intention to sharing with Jack what he knew, the temptation to play was too great.

Clearly, he hadn’t been wrong- the action had struck a chord in Will. However, he didn’t expect it to sting like this. Things had changed between them in the way he hadn’t anticipated.

After a gifted moment of thought, Will sighed and let his tone relax. There was no point in being mad this now. It couldn’t be taken back.

“I was going to _ask you_ to leave.” Will stated, trying to mimic the same cool and cold tone that Hannibal had just displayed.

Hannibal’s body grew tight under Will’s touch, but he didn’t make any move to push Will aside. He seemed to want him closer, if anything, but he didn’t speak.

“Politely.” Will added, suddenly feeling hungry for the sound of Hannibal’s voice. “Because we’re friends, and I owe you that much.”

_You shouldn’t have come back here._

Hannibal breathed himself into a state of relaxation again. Will’s hand kneaded along to the pulses of his heartbeat, which helped regardless of its roots in illusion.

“If I leave now, I will return later for the boy.” Hannibal explained. His voice was again dry, factual. Will’s body tensed in the same way Hannibal’s had, and Hannibal attempted to recreate the calming strobe of his touch against the outside of Will’s shoulder. It didn’t have the same effect.

Will propped himself up into a half-seated position, so that he could look deeply into Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal’s hand fell from him and laid motionless in the sheets around them. He could sense Will’s boiling temper, and used his extra energy to focus the room; he didn’t want to risk Will popping out just yet. He didn’t want to risk Will disappearing on him just yet.

“Can’t you just forget about him?” Will snapped. “Can you let their family out of this?”

As the words left his mouth, Will wished to take them back.

Hannibal continued to lay, near expressionless, with eyes slowly rolling down the shape of Will’s back.

“I know you’re in control of this.” Will continued, defiant of his own desires.

“Once I’m promised to a host, that promise is bound.” Hannibal explained, with avoidant eyes. “I can’t leave to make _them_ happy. It’s a contract as binding to me as it is to them.”

Will rolled his eyes. It felt like a lie and Will _knew_ it was. Hannibal could break this if he wanted to, he’d already anchored himself to the _house_ rather than Morgan, but Hannibal had reference before how long he had been without a body. Will couldn’t imagine giving up the opportunity to live again, himself.

“You were going to possess me.” Will accused, pointing to this as a contradiction of Hannibal’s claim. “Right? How does that fair with your contract?”

Again, Hannibal’s eyes fell to the side. He stayed quiet and Will wondered why he didn’t just push him away. If Hannibal pushed him away, this would all be easier.

“Why didn’t you?” Will added, allowing himself to be softer.

“I was going to kill you.” Hannibal clarified, after a moment. His eyes raised to Will’s and stayed there. “There was never any intention of keeping you as mine.” Hannibal continued. “I was going to take you over and kill you before you had the chance to do the same to me.”

Will’s heart didn’t sink like he expected it to. His expression hardly moved. He stayed on the bed, he stayed staring back.

“Why _didn’t_ you?” He reiterated.

Hannibal’s brow raised. “Would you have preferred it if I had?”

“That isn’t an answer to what I asked.”

Hannibal sighed and sat upright. He put a hand to the side of Will’s face and fiddled with his curls, before letting it rest against the sheets covering his own thigh. “These last few days with you have been different.”

Will inhaled sharply. A cold worry wrapped around his shoulders- not from fear but because hearing Hannibal say that meant that it was real. If Hannibal was feeling this way too, then it was possible Will wasn’t only being swept up in demon magic.

“Looking down on you, so close to giving your last breath to me…” Hannibal continue, seeming to zone-off into the near memory as he relived it. “I decided that, if these are to be my last days, I could accept it.”

Another sob escaped Will’s lips, causing Hannibal to move his attention back to him. Will hadn’t even realized he had started to properly tear up. Hannibal wrapped an arm around Will’s shoulders and pulled him back into his chest. He was hugging him and it felt warmer than any comfort Will could remember feeling elsewhere.

“I have no interest in hurting you anymore, even at my benefit.” Hannibal concluded, resting his lips in Will’s hairline.

Will turned his face up to try and catch his lips, to try and kiss him, but Hannibal pulled away and locked with his eyes. Will recalled the exact events that followed their first kiss and decided against a second try. Even if, in that moment, it felt like the only right thing to do.

Hannibal laid the two of them back into the bed, repositioning Will and his hands so that they were cuddled into each other the same way as before. He began to play with Will’s hair and Will caught him smiling at the way his curls fit around the knuckles of his fingers. Will had to stop watching him, to prevent himself from crying again.

“Do you like me?” Will asked. “Is that what this is?”

The question came out suddenly and, again, Will regretted it.

Hannibal sighed, sounding more pleased than the last time he did. “Yes.” He answered simply.

Will didn’t know what he was expecting. A _no_ , maybe, but not such a confident affirmation. He was stunned.  

“Why?” Will asked.

“You have a profound connection to that question, Will.” Hannibal said, sounding a little put off and annoyed. “Why does anyone like anyone?”

_Do these feelings bother him, too?_

Will shook his head. “You’re not just anyone, Hannibal.” He argued. “You’re not just anything. You’re-”

“You are extraordinary; just as extraordinary as you may claim that I am.” Hannibal interjected. “I have been traveling a long time, and never had the pleasures I’ve experienced with you while alongside any other being. You are in tune with this world in ways that I doubt very many are, and it makes you glow.”

Will looked up to his face, keeping his head to Hannibal’s chest. He looked mad, but he didn’t feel mad. He wasn’t mad at Hannibal, in any case.

“What your last demon did to you was tragedy.” Hannibal added, with a breath. “But who you became despite him, is nothing short of beautiful.”

Hannibal closed his arms tighter around Will, pulling him in to the point of discomfort. “You are beautiful.”

Will hated that he couldn’t kiss him.

\--

Will and Hannibal stayed together, gently brushing each other’s skin and finding comfort in each other’s arms, for the rest of the night. It was truly peaceful; one of the gentlest memories Will had ever created.

“If this is your doing,” He mumbled, referring to the room and their position. “This is manipulation.”

Hannibal exhaled through a smile. “Maybe it’s just the way I want to say goodbye.”

Will shook his head, but found himself smiling too. “ _That_ is manipulation.”

Nothing felt resolved, nothing felt better, but they had nothing more to say. Will knew what step came next. He knew how this ended. He always had.

“The sun is coming up in your world.” Hannibal noted. “Your friend will be here soon.”

“I know.” Will clarified. He had noticed a while ago, feeling the sun’s energy creep up on him. He had hoped it was in his head. He had hoped _his world_ would end before Hannibal had the time to dismiss him. _Or, rather, I had time to dismiss Hannibal._

“I don’t want this.” Will said, finding himself caving again to his emotions.

Hannibal moved to gently touch Will’s face, letting tears collect on his fingers. He looked as if he agreed but didn’t verbally confess. It wouldn’t have made any of this easier if he had.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do, Hannibal?” Will blurted, his anger boiling back. He wanted to slap Hannibal’s hand away.

Hannibal’s face fell back into something sad. He had hoped this was over with.

“Do you want me to _fight_ you?” Will continued, demanding an answer.

Hannibal shook his head. “I want you to do what you have to do.”

“You won’t fight back, then?” Will asked, wincing against the suggestion. “That’s not right.”

Hannibal reached to Will’s hand, where it still stayed against his chest, and moved his up to his jaw and neck. He held it there, waiting for Will to calm down. Eventually, he did.

“I can’t see any good that would come of fighting you.” Hannibal explained. “You will win.”

Hannibal released Will’s hand but continued to guide it up to his cheek. Will knew he was trying to help, but he felt cheated. He felt insulted. Now, he was mad at Hannibal.

Will’s tears came again and he tried to shake them away. He couldn’t be okay with this. He was _never_ okay with this, and Hannibal was so different. Hannibal was different from everything. Hannibal felt like the only thing that mattered, and he was about to lose him.

Will stroked Hannibal’s cheekbone, looking for a place his palm would fit perfectly. He could put it anywhere, it didn’t even need to be on his face, but he hoped that keeping this to routine would make fast, easy. Plus, this extended their time.

“I don’t want to do this.” Will repeated.

“I will come back for the boy if you don’t.” Hannibal replied. He meant it as a threat, as opposed to the way he stated as a warning before.

Will had to choose between this selfish want to feel this way forever, extending this innocent family’s torment and allowing an innocent to fall into the trap of a demon… Or, saving a child from killing his mother, someday.

Will had never thought of himself as selfish.

When light began to cut through Hannibal’s face, he could tell Hannibal was fighting to not give any signs of the pain it caused him. Mouth was tight and his jaw was strong.

“I don’t know where I go after this,” Hannibal began, causing Will to gasp as if he had been struck. “But I hope I never forget about you.”

_Fuck you._

Will wanted to vocalize it. He wanted to hit him for making this so hard.

_He isn’t making this hard. You are._

All he could hear now was the sound of his own heartbeat.

_I can’t do this._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers. Just in time to remind you that every season is spooky season- This is the final time I will be updating this story (with two back to back chapters, because I couldn't wrap this up with just the one like I thought I could).
> 
> I want to remind everyone to **check the tags** if you need to. Nothing new has been added, but I've skipped through a chunk of tags before and regretted it later. I would hate for that to happen to someone else so READ SAFELY.
> 
> I also want to thank everyone for getting this far. This has been a very fun thing to write and I'm happy to have had you all along with me. It's been a year since I said I would end this so... really, thanks for sticking around.
> 
> I hope you like how I end things. <3

The moment Jack saw the door hanging open to the darkened home, he knew Will was somewhere inside. His name stumbled from his lips as he ran over the threshold, ripping up the stairs to find the door to the playroom- closed. His own panic made the door feel locked. He kicked at the bottom corner of it, making it bend and rattle, until the handle finally gave way to him.

Will laid in the center of the room, on his back, with his knees up. His eyes were focused on the ceiling, with a weak smile on his lips. He didn’t acknowledge Jack’s arrival, or his battle to get to in the room.

“Will?” Jack called out, running to his side and falling hard to his knees. “Are you alright?”

Jack reached out to touch Will, to grab his shoulders and his attention. Will immediately turned into himself, rolling up on his side and dropping the smile from his face. From this proximity, Jack could see the rawness of his cheeks. Will had been crying.

“Don’t touch me.” Will whispered, speaking down to the floor and covering his mouth with his hand.

Jack ignored his request and dug the tips of his fingers into Will’s shoulder. He turned him back to his original position, holding him there and looking straight into his eyes. They were calm looking back up at him, which only fueled Jack’s irritation.

“What happened?” He asked. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Will took his own time answering. He scanned Jack’s face as if he were waiting for him to say something else, or do something different. Then, he shook his head.

“I took care of it.” Will said. His voice was tight and tired, broken by devastation. He pushed Jack away from him and sat himself upright. “He’s gone.”

Jack looked around the room as if he could see who Will was talking about, despite them both knowing he couldn’t. “This was reckless.” He observed.

“Yes, but I got it done.” Will replied. He rubbed at his arms and stretched his shoulders open as if he were manipulating wings. He waited, giving Jack the time to scold him more. When he didn’t take the chance, Will cleared his throat and spoke again.

“Can we go?” He asked.

Jack contemplated the request, checking back and forth between Will and the door. He opened his bag, instead of standing, and removed a silver flask. He offered it to Will and waited.

At first, Will looked confused. However, confused made its pass into understanding, to sorrow, and eventually to anger. He glared at Jack, with gloss in his light eyes and a stressed tremble to his lip.

“Are you serious?” He snapped.

Jack nodded. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Will.”

Will snatched the flask of holy water from his hand and began to ring the cap open. “No, it’s exactly that.” He accused, before taking a swig. After, it looked as though he wanted to be smug- tell Jack “I told you.”- but instead he collapsed. He cursed as he sobbed, and pulled his knees into his chest.

“He really is gone.” He quietly wept.

Jack felt his anger swell in him again, but forced himself to soften at the sight of his friend crying. He gave Will’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and let his own head hang between his shoulders.

“And that’s a good thing, Will.” He explained. “You saved this family.”

Will shook his head, but then nodded as if he agreed. Jack smiled at him, hoping it would move him to do the same, but Will continued to cry. Jack waited with him on the floor until he was ready to stand on his own.

\--

Will spent the start of the ride home listing out Jack’s passenger window. The doors rattled like they always did, and a cool breeze swept in through the sunroof and the roots of his hair.

Jack kept looking to him like he wanted to talk, but it took him ages to form his words. The air in the car was stiff with tension. Jack knew what affect that had on Will, and didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry you had to do that, Will.” is what Jack decided to say.

Will replied with an immediate “No, you’re not.” Letting Jack know that he had chosen poorly.

Jack sighed and turned his full attention back to the road. “I’m sorry that you had to do it _alone_.” He emphasized.

Will shook his head. “I always _do it alone_.”

“God _dammit_ , Will.”

Jack abruptly halted the vehicle, causing them both to lurch forward in their seats.

“Is this all to prove something to me?” Jack snapped.

Will calmly checked the side mirror, wondering if this outrage was going to cause anyone any traffic distress. At least last time he pulled over.

“No.” Will answered, with no urge expand anymore with his answer.

“I explicitly told you not to go there until you’d had some time to rest, because I felt this was too dangerous.” Jack said, sternly and with his jaw tense. “You decided to go there alone. Explain to me how that wasn’t a stunt.”

“I did rest.” Will replied, peeling his head off the window just to lay back against it in an angle that allowed him to look at Jack. “When I felt I had rested enough, I left. I wanted to say goodbye to him privately. I didn’t need your assistance with this, nor did I want it.” He explained.

Jack shook his head with disapproval. “You should have waited for me.”

“What would that have changed?” Will argued. “The family can move back in whenever they see fit. He won’t be bothering them again. _That’s_ what matters.”

“This was reckless.” Jack reinstated, the volume of his voice reaching a level much too loud for the cramped space.

“Just, take me home Jack.” Will implored. “Please.”

“I can tolerate your usual spirit hoarding habits, but this wasn’t a dog.” Jack continued, planning to ignore him until it was convenient to do otherwise. “Do you have any idea what you risked by coming here alone?”

“Nothing more than I had risked before. Nothing more than you _let me_ risk.” Will snapped. He lifted himself from the seat as if he might lash out- as if he might bite- but was interrupted by the honk of a car horn from behind them.

Will sunk back into his previous position, with the back of his head against the cool glass. “I want to go home, now.”

Annoyed, Jack slowly pressed back down on the gas and waved at the other driver through his rearview mirror.

“Do you like how I look when I’m rapidly aging?” Jack said, making it as clear that he wasn’t finished talking about this, driving or not. “Is that why you’ve chosen to act this way all week?”

“Jack.” Will sighed.

“And then punish me-” Jack continued. “And all the other people who need our help, because _you_ befriended a _demon_.”

Will opened his mouth with a sneer. He looked as if he had an arsenal of things to say- things that he had been storing within himself for year- but he never got to it. Will crumpled into himself again, reaching up to his face and rubbing at his temples as if he had been stricken with a migraine.

“What?” Jack asked, with a tone much more accusatory than caring. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Will began, but drifted. He sat upright in his seat and gazed out the front window, with no real intent or object of interest. “You know, Jack,” He sighed. “He really didn’t want to hurt you.”

Jack looked to Will in shock, and was met with a dark set of eyes. He inhaled sharply and twisted his steering wheel off to the left, in hopes of crashing. However, Will- the demon- snatched the wheel up in his own hand, and righted their path.

“Ah-ah.” Hannibal scolded, with Will’s voice. “Just drive, Jack. Take me home.”

Jack shook his head. “You don’t have a home.” He corrected. “ _Will_ has a home. Let him go.”

Hannibal laughed. It was a sweet laugh, distinctively different than Will’s condescending chuckles. “Will is not under any restraint.” He explained. “I am here with invitation.”

“Don’t feed me that, Demon.” Jack snapped, before Hannibal could get the words out in full. “Let him _go_ or I’ll drive right off the road.”

“He isn’t trapped. He chose this.” Hannibal repeated. “In fact, I told him to do his job. And he forced me into this.”

Something welled inside of him, that made him stretch his chest and neck. He smiled and sighed with an emotion that could be bliss. He’d never felt _bliss_ like this before.

Again, he laughed. “He even protected me from that holy water you forced on him. He _really_ wants me here, Jack.”

Nothing about Will had gone as planned for Hannibal. He couldn’t scare him off, he couldn’t kill him, and he couldn’t even convince him _to kill him_.

Even after all the reassurance that it was what he wanted, Will had stopped using his ability to shatter Hannibal’s being shortly after beginning. He closed himself into his neck and start to sob. He started to kiss him, saying he couldn’t _do this_ , and Hannibal had wished he could have convinced him he _could_. Then he was on top of him, kissing him, and holding him to the mattress.

Hannibal wanted to remind him that this wouldn’t work; that Hannibal would have to _kill him_ when Morgan’s time came, that Will would have to become a killer under Hannibal’s rule in order for any of this to become _real_ … and that Hannibal _didn’t want_ to take his life from him.

Instead, Hannibal kissed him back. He initiated the possession, agreed to it, and let Will have him. He’d never been in the position before.

Now, he didn’t feel as if he _had_ anything. Hannibal felt rooted to Will, and he wasn’t in control. If Will didn’t want to give him up, Hannibal had nowhere to go. If Will didn’t want him to come out, he couldn’t. Hannibal didn’t feel bound to Morgan anymore, either, as if Will had torn up the contract he had with the family.

Will was different from any other vessel he’d ever inhabited. He felt so secure and complete, and strangely free under all the limits Will had struck him with. He couldn’t imagine ever having anything else- not after this.

“Did you know he could do that?” Hannibal asked, musing out loud. “Force a spirit into him like this, and hold them there?”

Jack didn’t answer, but his silence was as good as a no.

“I don’t think he did either.” Hannibal continued, a broad smile of pride on his face.

Jack tried to swerve from the road again, but the wheel didn’t budge from Hannibal’s hold on it.

“Would you prefer if I drove? I know the way now.” Hannibal offered, gesturing to his head with his free hand.

“Will!” Jack called at him again. He was hopeful, desperate, that Will would resurface for him.

The face that once belonged to Will only continued to smile at him with amusement.

Hannibal brought his hand off the steering wheel, and struck it over Jack’s windpipe. “He’s not coming out because you call him.” He informed him, calmly. “He doesn’t owe you that.”

He released Jack’s throat and placed his hand back on the wheel, with a quick glance at his surroundings to see if anyone had seen him lash out in that way.

“Please, respect his wishes.” Hannibal added. “That, you do owe him.”

Jack’s thoughts drifted to a hollow place- a calmer place, with less urgency of escape. He let himself reflect on the words on the demon.

He had thought Will needed to be pushed. Will was so sheltered and isolated; left to his own devices, Jack could imagine Will dying in that tiny apartment. He’d be all by himself, with those phantom dogs, and Jack never wanted that for him. He appreciated the company of spirits, over those who occupied space of the living, and Jack never wanted that for him. _Pushing_ him to do these jobs, and see how spirits could turn a person’s life upside down, he _thought_ would be good for him.

But it hadn’t been.

“Will chose this?” Jack said, in a voice so tense it sounded like a secret. “He chose _you_ over _humanity_?”

“He chose _me_ over _you_.” Hannibal stated, plainly. “I don’t plan for domination over _all humanity_. He tried to tell you that. None of us are that dramatic.”

Glancing to this _creature_ that sat beside him, in the skin of his old friend, Jack wondered if he should have just listened. He should have let Will off the job. He shouldn’t have kept information from him. He should have kept a better eye on him.

Jack thought he knew what was better for Will, and placing him in a room with a demon he _thought_ would change his view of these monsters he always fought so hard to spare.

But it didn’t.

“Well,” Jack started, interrupted by his own need to sob through his stress. “Excuse me for not trusting the mission statement of a demon.”

Hannibal watched him with what could be pity. His smile was soft, and his eyes were heavy. He didn’t even look like Will anymore- Will had _never_ looked at Jack that way, in all the years he’d known him.

Jack shook his head and turned back to the road, starting to mouth prayers even though he knew it wouldn’t help his situation any.

“Relax; you won’t die until I’m done with you.” Hannibal noted. He touched his face with his free hand, as if he were cleaning it of dust. Jack’s fear of death was buried under anger, but Hannibal could still smell it. He expected at least one more attack, either physical or verbal, before Jack would give in to his fate.

“I think you turn up here.” Hannibal said, turning the wheel for Jack as he attempted to miss an integral road to Will’s apartment building. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new beginning.

Hannibal’s consciousness sat on the floor of Will’s apartment, with his back supported by the bones of Will’s couch. Jack’s body was reclined on the cushions, chest pulled open and his face stuck in a forever stunned silence. His organs had been cooked and consumed, but his blood still stained the walls, Will’s arms, and Will’s mouth. Hannibal could still taste the rawness of him, over the well-seasoned meals he had prepared for himself.

Winston crossed the floor to him, and offered him his head. Hannibal smirked at the sweet dog, and pet him. It was nice to meet Will’s family.

Hannibal suddenly inhaled, sharply, as if he had been struck in the gut. Winston trotted away from him, with uncertainty.

Hannibal laughed as Will’s energy settled into the room with him- back in the driver’s seat of his own flesh.

“Welcome back.” Hannibal greeted.

Although they were still connected, it felt as if Hannibal were sitting _beside_ Will. It was as if nothing had changed from when they met- they were just more secure now. They were a part of each other, even as separate forms.

Will scanned the room, wearing a smile more natural to his lips. His eyes settled on Jack, and it faltered- but just for a moment. It didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would to see what he had let happen to Jack, what _he had done_ to jack.

“Did you lie to me about your last demon?” Hannibal asked.

“No.” Will replied, turning his attention to where Hannibal sat with him. He looked deeply into him, with eyes dancing. He looked overwhelmed with joy.

Will looked truly happier than Hannibal had ever seen him.

“Did you know you could do this?” Hannibal continued to question. He hadn’t had much time after _his possession_ to ask the things he wanted to, and Will only allowed him access to certain parts of his mind. He couldn’t look for the answers himself, while he had waited for Will to choose their first victim.

“No.” Will answered. “I thought it was worth a shot, though.”

Will just couldn’t give him up. No matter how he tried to picture things, and no matter how much he urged with his emotions to understand that _the pain would pass_ , Will couldn’t imagine a world without Hannibal; now that he’d had him, there was only him.

_Worth a shot._ Hannibal echoed. _He’d risk dying just to try to keep me._

Hannibal leveled himself with a deep breath. “Tell me you didn’t do this for a child you’ve never even met.”

Will’s brows furrowed, and the smile fell from both their faces. Insecurity wasn’t something Hannibal was used to- things were always definite with him.

Will wasn’t.

“Not entirely.” Will confirmed, making Hannibal light up from the inside again. “But you know that.”

Hannibal licked at his lips, and looked at Will’s. He wanted to kiss him.

“This will happen again.” He said, instead. He gestured out to the violence the room still held. “It has to, to support me.”

Will nodded. “I know.”

Will’s eyes flicked down to Hannibal’s lips, too.

Hannibal was bluffing, of course, for the most part. He needed to kill to stay strong, and he needed at least one _heart-felt_ sacrifice to stay bonded to his host. With Will, though, he wasn’t so sure it was _necessary_ that he continue. He may grow weak and his powers may prove less potent but, _unlike_ with his other hosts he’d occupied in the past, he wouldn’t lose _this host_ unless _this host_ wanted him gone.

However, Will’s quick response gave him hope that he may get to kill and feast like this anyway. Will, after seeing the coarse carnage he caused, wasn’t closed to the concept.

After a pleased chuckle, Hannibal leaned in to rest his forehead against Will’s, grabbing at the nape of his neck. “Jack was right about this being reckless.”

Will snorted and shook his head. He pulled away from Hannibal’s hold and let his head fall back against the couch, feeling Jack’s legs against the top of his head.

“How do you feel?” Hannibal asked, after a moment.

“Like I had a really good day.” Will answered. He brought his head back upright, and took a moment to stretch out his arms. His body felt tired, but content. His mind felt alive. His heart felt like something foreign- like a machine was keeping him at his best. He felt incredible.

“Does is always feel like this?” He asked.

“With me it does.” Hannibal teased, arching just one of his eyebrows.

Will laughed again. Even his laughter felt better than it had before Hannibal, despite him knowing he _shouldn’t_ be laughing while sitting mere inches from a corpse. Much more, a corpse he used to know.

Will caught his reflection in picture frame that had fallen to the floor. His head tilted with amazement, and he brought himself to his feet. His legs felt uncertain, but Hannibal wrapped an arm around his waist- He allowed him to shift his weight to him, as they two of them walked to the restroom. Despite him not _physically_ being there, Hannibal took that instability away.

When they turned into the room, Will was met with the mirror immediately. Hannibal didn’t come up in the reflection. It was just him, covered in black and blood. One of his eyes was his, light in color. The other was dark, as he saw Hannibal’s. To a stranger, it would look natural- complete blue/brow heterochromia- and nothing more.

“Wow.” Will said, gently placing a hand to the mirror as if he disbelieved it was there.

Hannibal watched him from his side, then watch his expression in the mirror. “We’re a team.” He said. A single tear dropped down Hannibal’s cheek, and Will watched it roll off his own in his reflection. He hadn’t intended to be this emotional.

“We’re beautiful.” Will responded, caught up in his own emotions.

Hannibal nodded and turned Will into face him, planting a stress-free kiss on his lips. It was the first kiss they had been allowed to share, without any consequences that hadn’t already taken place. They were free to be themselves and do as they please- with each other and against the rest of the world.

“We _are_ beautiful.”

**Author's Note:**

> My lovely friend [Ives](https://twitter.com/skeletology/) make some art to go along with this chapter. You can check it out [here](https://twitter.com/skeletology/status/928861025356492800). It's BEAUTIFUL (and so is all of their work- a recommend checking out their other work, [here](https://twitter.com/cadaverhouse))


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